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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 15 days

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End Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?”

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?”

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!”

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.”

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?”

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...”

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.”

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.”

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles.

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles.

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter.

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!”

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Little.”

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.”

“Oh, what’d you do--”

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.”

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.”

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.”

“You too.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t, work. Day after?”

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything.

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver.

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad.

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too.

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks.

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.”

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases.

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.”

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.”

“Again?” You squint.

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles.

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest.

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there.

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes.

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?”

“Hey,” you frown.

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.”

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms.

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.”

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.”

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?”

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...”

“That’s mean,” you pout.

“What, so are you,” she laughs.

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read.

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁'

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking?

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead.

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply.

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty.

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.”

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.”

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.”

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again.

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then.

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.”

“Kar,” you warn her.

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.”

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else.

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive.

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.”

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer.

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says.

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious.

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages.

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around.

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel.

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din.

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee.

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line.

“Uh, hello?” You utter.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice.

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online.

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.”

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures.

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you?

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.”

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?”

He cringes and takes another breath, “he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.”

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid.

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--”

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.”

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--”

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--”

“I was scared--”

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.”

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet.

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe.

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads.

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.”

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #defending jacob #end game

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neoneun-au · 4 months

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CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER III: WHO WAITS FOR LOVE?

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, masturbation (explicit female, implied/mentions of male), 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iii: who waits for love?

“You didn’t mention one of my roommates was basically a fucking model,” you complain, sinking into the absurdly massive grey sectional next to Jeonghan as he sits scrolling on his phone, attention removed from the drama providing background noise on the shared TV.

“Who? Mingyu?” He tosses his head back with a bark of a laugh at the suggestion, “he’s a model idiot.”

“Idiot or not you should have warned me he’d be so…so,” you toss your hands in the air, a dramatic display of frustration completed by the furrow in your brows. The image of Mingyu’s bare chest from your initial meeting (new and improved version 2.0 of hot roommate: now accompanied by a soundtrack of bed squeaks and the joy of someone else’s orgasm!) assaults your senses and you scrub it from your mind’s eye as best as you can before fixing your weary gaze back on Jeonghan, “so hot.”

“Oh please,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes as soon as the word falls from your lips. “Yeah he’s easy on the eyes, but once you get to know him his looks are much less impressive, trust me.” He shakes his head, raising his coffee to take a sip before pursing his lips and fixing you with a concerned stare, “I didn’t take you as the type to pine after tall, dark, and stupid. You’re not thinking of using him as a rebound are you?”

“What? Absolutely not,” the reply comes out perhaps more fervently than it should have because what was intended to deny the suggestion only serves to deepen the crease settling in between Jeonghan’s manicured eyebrows. You clear your throat and take a sip from the mug of tea growing cold in your hands as a cover.

“Rebound,” you scoff at the word, trying to play off the twisting feeling in your gut with derision but only managing to dig the knife in deeper. “Definitely not. I have no plans to start dating anytime soon. Not after this breakup.” You’re aware that you’ve begun to ramble but as per usual, your mouth runs away with your words. Try as you might, you cannot scramble to retrieve them as they spill forward like a damn breaking open. Jeonghan stares at you with a slight frown as you monologue, “I barely even want to look at men full-stop. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you’re okay, we’re friends and all. And Seungcheol is fine I guess ‘cause he lifted all of my heavy shit up the stairs like some kind of bodybuilding angel sent from protein-heaven,” a stray strand of hair falls in front of your eyes and you blow it away with a short puff of breath.

“But dating? No. No, no, no,” you continue unabated, “absolutely not. I’m taking this time to get to know me. If anything, I’m dating myself. Mingyu might be hot but he won’t break my resolve, that’s for sure. I am determined,” you finish the speech with a single, firm nod–agreement with yourself clear and solid and in no way capable of breaking at the threat of warm brown puppy eyes flashed in your direction.

“Right,” Jeonghan drags out the word, unconvinced by your impassioned declaration of independence. “Well, if you get bored of dating yourself and do end up wanting someone to mess around with for a bit, I can hook you up with some people. Serious or…less serious. Your choice.”

“I will be just fine on my own, thank you.” You nod once. Firm. Decisive. Not at all embarrassed by the display.

“If you say so,” he sings, shaking his head and pushing himself off the couch before flicking the TV off. You sit in silence for a moment, sipping the last of your lukewarm tea, and listen as Jeonghan’ footsteps fade into the kitchen. The slight lingering guilt and shame from the night before stains your thoughts. A ring of liquid left on the surface of a coffee table, encircling the memory of Mingyu’s moaning and the keen sense of desire that burned a pit in your core at the sound.

Jeonghan returns from the kitchen a second later and sits down on the arm of the couch. He clears his throat to speak, more serious than you had seen since graduating university. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life,” he begins. You inhale to laugh your disagreement of the statement but he holds up a single hand to silence you so you bite it back just as quickly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I will just give you a warning, if I may” he lets his hand fall back down to his lap, “as your friend. And as someone who has your best interest at heart.”

“Fine,” you allow, buying into the sincerity, “I’m listening.”

“I said that I can hook you up with people both serious and not so serious,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath, “Mingyu is not serious.”

The image of the man in question pops up in your mind once more. An observable object–lips locked with the mystery brunette, hands roaming the expanse of her body as they flutter like a pair of dragonflies locked in a mating ritual towards his bedroom. The chorus of “ohs” and “ahs” that chorus in your ears like the audio from the old Italian softcore porn films you used to sneak out of bed to watch in your adolescence. The squeaking of the bed frame, and even the eventual abrupt departure first thing this morning, project themselves across the walls of your brain like a feel of film. All fleeting images and experiences serve as firsthand evidence backing up what Jeonghan is saying to you at this moment in the harsh light of day.

“If you’re in it for a quick, no strings attached hookup then, well,” he sighs, brushing his bangs out from in front of his eyes, “you’re a grown woman, I trust you can make your own decisions. But I’ve never seen Mingyu with the same girl more than once. So just…be careful. Because if you want something substantial, you would be barking up the wrong tree with him.”

You nod and the previous image of Mingyu–all roaming hands and bucking hips–dissolves pixel by pixel into the knitted brows of concern and the serious expression his classically handsome face held barely an hour ago. The warmth of his hand as it pressed ever so lightly against the skin of your forehead–an act so painfully tender and familiar it made you yearn at the intimacy of it. While your logical mind does believe what Jeonghan is saying, another part of you (a deeper and much more foolish part) can’t help but feel like there has to be more to Mingyu than the rest of them give him credit for. That maybe there is something to be taken seriously there.

The thought dissipates into vapour as Vernon strolls down the stairs–bleary eyed and dazed with the lingering sleep still clawing at the corners of his eyes. He nods lazily in silent greeting, clad in tie dye and baggy jeans, and walks past the pair of you and disappears into the kitchen.

“Just,” Jeonghan hesitates a moment, waiting for the sound of the fridge opening in the next room to disrupt the strained silence that had settled between you, “be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you smile, genuinely grateful for the advice and care from your long-time friend, despite the bells of disagreement ringing out inside of you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think I need a rebound?” The question comes after an hour of banter and conversation over way too expensive cocktails in the dimly lit corner of the bar you used to frequent when you were still going to university with Seulgi. Her insistence that you get out of the apartment and stop stewing in your own thoughts had finally paid off and truthfully the distraction was not entirely unwelcome. But you were still stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right. The status quo of your friendship since the very beginning.

“Didn’t you say you were swearing off men or something?” Seulgi asks, tapping a manicured fingernail against the side of her nearly empty manhattan.

“That was before I saw the reality of the men I was swearing off,” you sigh, mourning the loss of your already weak resolve. Solemn regret for the poorly timed declamations you had given voice to in the past. “And the reality is that they're pretty fucking hot.”

“You mean one of them is pretty fucking hot, right?” she emphasizes, ever observant, and you grimace at her over the lip of your own half-empty glass.

“One of them looks like a Greek fucking God for no reason,” you grumble, turning to wave the waitress over for another round, “like Adonis or something. It’s not my fault I have functioning eyeballs.”

“Adonis wasn’t a god, he was the mortal lover of Aphrodite.”

“Well whatever he was, I’m now stuck living in an apartment with him.” The young waitress walks up with an expectant look and Seulgi orders another round of the same while you drain the last of your drink, savouring the bitterness of the gin as it lingers at the tip of your tongue. You watch the waitress as she walks back towards the bar, brunette ponytail swinging behind her like in rhythm with her steps, and wonder vaguely if maybe she’s the girl you saw Mingyu with.

Seulgi turns back to you with a slight roll of her eyes, “I’m sure it's not that bad. Just ignore him, you’re mostly working or asleep when you’re not just hanging around bugging me anyway.”

“Pretty hard to ignore him when he’s so openly hooking up with some random girl in a condo with 4 other people who can clearly hear him.”

“Well put some earphones in or something, listen to a podcast,” she laughs, shaking her head. You bite your tongue, reluctant to mention the fact that you had willingly listened in as they fucked. That maybe you had enjoyed it a little more than you were letting on. You didn’t need the inevitable teasing that was bound to come if you told her any of that. “Do you remember our one roommate? From second year?”

“Oh god,” you balk at the memory, “Johnny?”

“He was so loud,” she grimaces. So many late nights spent huddled together on her bed watching movies, joined in mutual avoidance of the self-proclaimed playboy and his rotating roster of girls. “And then you went and hooked up with him which was just the worst. He was so insufferable after that.”

“Hey, in my defense I was desperate and not exactly in my right mind,” you bristle at the thought of your pathetic, erstwhile crush. Surely, you had thought in the throes of your youth and naivety, someone who pulled that many girls knows exactly how to make them feel good. Yet by the end of it, as he lay open-mouthed snoring on the bare mattress next to you, you were left with a clear idea of why you never seemed to see the same girl more than once. “Anyway, from the sounds coming out of her, Mingyu seems to actually know what he’s doing in bed.”

“So you did listen,” she smirks.

“The walls are thin,” you let the paltry excuse fall from your lips as she tosses her head back in laughter. Gulping down a mouthful of water in a vain attempt to swallow some of the embarrassment boiling like hot lava in your bloodstream.

“What do you think they were doing?” Seulgi leans forward with a conspiratorial gaze–brown eyes full and bright and filled to the brim with a hint of evil. There have been a few moments throughout your years of friendship where she has fixed you with a look like this, and most of them led to some of the worst decisions either of you have ever made. Breaking into the community swimming pool after dark, stealing the neighbouring houses’ lawn ornaments, making out with dudes that may or may not have been married. Her desire for intrigue terrified and excited you in equal measure.

“Pretty sure they were fucking,” you respond and she sits back, disappointed at the bland reply.

“Yeah, I got that part. I mean details. If we’re gossiping, we should do it right.”

The cacophony of the bar consumes you. Chatter and laughter from nearby tables floods your senses, drowning out the roar of guilt that knocks at the door of your mind as you consider your next words carefully. Whether to completely dive off the deep end and betray your new roommates privacy (in more ways than you already have). If you had been a little more sober and a little less intrigued by the man in your own right, you might have shut the topic of conversation down before it even began. You might have left the apartment for the night and slept on a chair in the lobby and avoided the entire tryst to prevent the memory of his moans from carving themselves into your temporal lobe.

But you did not and now you are just as invested in the situation, and Seulgi’s complete lack of shame about asking for details further strangled any lingering guilt you had left. “Well,” you start and she leans in closer, eyes alight with anticipation, “they started in the hallway. I thought they were going to have sex right against the wall while I was trapped hiding behind the couch.”

She laughs, head tossed back in mirth, “bet you would have loved that. Mingyu, bare ass out in front of you,” she jeers and you bristle at the accusation (even if you know she’s right). The waitress returns with your drinks and you mumble a brief thank you to her as she sets the glasses down. Seulgi continues to laugh, pleased with your reaction, “it would have been your wet dream come true.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m not saying anything else,” you grumble into your fresh drink, wincing at the bite of the liquor. Cocktails were never your thing but Seulgi had offered to pay so who were you to refuse.

“Aww,” she whines, “fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you. Please give me the play by play. I am so curious.” She claps her hands together in mock prayer, pleading for your cooperation, and you think she might make an excellent lawyer or serial killer if she weren’t so normal most of the time.

“Fine,” you relent after a beat, already too wrapped up in reliving the night to abandon the story anyway. “Obviously,” you stress, “that didn’t happen. They were making out there for maybe like 5 minutes but it felt like hours. I was so worried she was going to see me but thankfully I managed to stay pretty low.”

Seulgi takes a sip of her darkly coloured drink, you can tell she wants to interject but she manages to hold true to her promise.

“So they stumble off to his room,” you continue with a sigh, “and I go to mine, which, mind you, is right next to his. We share a wall.” She winces and you give her a knowing nod, steeling yourself against the all too vivid memory. “I crawl into bed, trying to block out the noise for a while, which at this point isn’t too loud. It’s just like…some muffled talking and moaning and the occasional slap of like…skin on skin. Maybe he spanked her…” you trail off, shaking your head along with the words, fully invested in the theatrics of the storytelling now. “But, through some cruel twist of fate his bed, just like mine, is also right up against our shared wall. So as soon as they really get going, I can feel it.”

“What, like…” she thrusts in her seat, a quizzical slant to her eyebrows, “like shaking?”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ for emphasis and she lets out a low whistle.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, “felt like forever. I was just clutching my sheets like it was an earthquake or something.” You do conveniently leave out the heat of desire and curling of toes, but she didn’t need to know that part.

“Did it start off slow?” she asks, voice conspiratorial. “Fast? Do you think he ate her out first?”

“Seulgi,” you hiss, keeping your voice low. You glance over at the table of college guys next to you but they don't appear to have been listening.

“What, I’m not allowed to ask?” She balks, hand on heart, and appears offended for a moment before the usual mischievousness settles back in and she leans forward with a glint. “Did Wonwoo ever eat you out?”

“We are not discussing the details of my sex life right now.”

“No of course not,” she rolls her eyes, “we’re just discussing the details of someone else’s.” You grumble at the inability to argue with this statement. “How long has it been since you got laid anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dropping your head to the table and then regretting it immediately when you realise how sticky it is. “Like five months maybe?”

“Five? Didn’t you break up with Wonwoo like…” she fixes her eyes on the ceiling for a brief moment, calculating the time passed in her head before turning back to you with frown lines creased into her forehead, “six weeks ago?”

You shrug, sinking your embarrassment into another sip of alcohol, “so we hadn’t had sex in a while, so what?”

“Do you think maybe that was a contributing factor in your dissatisfaction with the relationship?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need a therapy session, Seulgi.”

“On the contrary, I think you would benefit greatly from therapy,” she laughs, “but that’s not what this is. You’ve just been sort of distant lately.” You open your mouth to protest but she stops you with a glance, “don’t start, I know we’ve been hanging out, but over the last few months you haven’t been as open about your emotions and stuff. You used to tell me everything, even things I didn’t want or need to hear, but for a while it feels like you’ve just been…hiding. Internalizing.” She leans forward and taps the center of your forehead with one, manicured finger. “Stop that. It’s not good for you to be in your head so much.”

“I hate to say it but, you’re right,” you sigh, begrudgingly agreeing with her observation. The skin where she had poked you tingling in the aftermath of her touch like a beacon of truth.

“I always am,” she nods, “but seriously. We’re friends. I want to hear how you’re feeling. I know I make fun of you a lot, but that’s just ‘cause you’re so easy to make fun of.”

“Hey!”

She laughs and you’re reminded of why she and Jeonghan always got along so well. “Seriously though,” she says, expression sobering, “maybe you wouldn’t fixate so much of your loneliness and desperation onto random guys if you got out of your head a bit more regularly. Just a thought.”

“It's not desperation, I just…” you trail off, unsure of where to begin. Unsure even of what your own internal landscape was trying to tell you. You wanted to confide in her, to be more open and transparent, but it was hard to do that when none of you couldn’t even sort out your thoughts and feelings from your anxieties and worries. It was hard to be clear when everything just felt like mud. She waits, expectant, as you sift through the much for some clear strand of thought. “You’re right, about the loneliness anyway, I know you are.” She nods, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “But it’s not desperation.”

“So then what is it?” she asks and you try to place it. Try to tug on the thought to follow where it was leading you. What was it about Mingyu that made you feel like you were chasing something? Clawing at the walls of some well of yearning like a prisoner of your own desires. What was it about him that was making you want more? More information, more contact, more, more, more.

“I think,” you start, hesitant to speak the word lest it be wrong. “I think it’s curiosity.”

“About Mingyu?”

“Yeah, him. And about myself,” you shake your head. Ruminating on your spiraling thoughts was one thing, but vocalising them for someone who knew you oftentimes better than you knew yourself was another thing entirely. Your thoughts held more weight now that someone else was bearing witness to them. They had more consequences now than just 15 minutes of anxiety or a few hours of doom-scrolling.

“What about yourself?” she asks, unraveling the mess as you present it to her.

“I feel like…I’ve been in this strange place between needing people for everything and also trying my best to not need anyone at all. I can’t do my taxes without help, I can’t change a tire without help, I can’t even move apartments without it! But when it comes to emotions or vulnerability…I would rather just deal with it on my own, you know?” She nods, attention focused completely on you. Despite how long you’ve been friends, the direct attention still flickers a switch of shyness inside of you.

“That’s what it was like with Wonwoo, too. He was never the most emotionally available person and I think I just got used to dealing with things on my own because of it. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts or feelings cause I know I have a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, though, it wasn’t like he refused to listen or anything I just…he just wasn’t really open with his own feelings or thoughts so I sort of started to feel guilty about dominating those conversations all the time with mine. Like I was using him as some sort of emotional punching bag. And then I just got used to it, and it took so long for me to realise that I needed something more than that…”

Any hesitation you had felt before dissipates as you talk, little by little. You feel like you’re back in your dorm room together, laying on your floor and just letting yourself pour out every thought, every feeling, every worry you had. Stream of consciousness–your lips to Seulgi’s ears. That open vulnerability you shared before life and work and everything else got in the way and left the door open for inhibition, shame, and guilt to move into the space between.

You feel lighter as you speak, like you had been needing this–craving it. Waiting for her invitation to come to let loose the torrential downpour of your mind to a willing listener. To a friend.

She was right. She always was.

“So what is it about this Mingyu guy, then? You don’t think he would just be the same?” She asks, shifting the focus, and you purse your lips in concentration.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off. And you really weren’t sure. Was he just an idle fascination after all? Did you just find him hot and that smoke screen of good looks was blinding you to the fact that he was just some guy like everyone before him? Or was there actually something there, in spite of it all? You mull it over while Seulgi takes a leisurely sip of her drink. “I was talking to Jeonghan the other day, and he said something that sort of made me think–”

“That’s a surprise,” she laughs, unable to resist the opportunity for a jab at your mutual friend.

“He said ‘Mingyu is not serious’ and I don’t know,” you continue, unabated by her comment, “I get this feeling that that’s not the full truth.”

“What, like psychic intuition?” she laughs and you shake your head.

“No, no…well, maybe. I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know the guy very well yet, and I have seen him do exactly what Jeonghan was warning me he does but…” you sigh, trying to collect your scattered thoughts of the man that is currently plaguing your mind. “He has also been very thoughtful, and he seems to notice such small details that the others don’t. I don’t know…I just think there might be something more to him than that, you know?”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to discover that side of him?” she asks, eyebrow quirked. Astute as ever.

“No,” you start, but catch yourself in the lie immediately. “Well, yeah, I guess. I just want to see if my hunch is correct.”

She fixes you with a withering gaze, dark brown eyes boring into your own for a moment before she laughs again, “Oh I get it now, you want to fix him.”

“I can’t help it, I love a project,” you sigh, resting your cheek in your palm and tracing idle circles against the wood grain of the table top.

“So take up crocheting or something! Stop throwing yourself at every man who looks like a kicked puppy.” You groan at the accusation but can’t deny the truth in it. You did have a track record. “Look, if you want to do this. Really want to crack that big beefy chest open and see what’s inside, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m warning you now that I do not think this is going to end well.”

“You sound like Jeonghan,” you mumble, eyes closed as you listen to the lecture.

“Good, at least someone you live with has some brains.” She shakes her head, pausing to hand her card to the waitress as she walks over with the bill for the evening. Silence stretches out for a moment, the din of the bar enclosing in to envelop you in its swell as you wait for the transaction to finish. The waitress returns and Seulgi slips her card back into her wallet before turning back to you, “I’m not saying this to be mean, but I really think you should take some time to be with yourself before you end up repeating the same mistakes you made with Wonwoo.”

“Harsh,” you mutter, feeling the sting of it spear through your heart and settle there. Slow poison.

She softens, eyes warming as she slides off her chair. You follow suit and walk with her out into the chill of the night. The bitterness of winter was starting to seep slowly into the air, you can feel it biting at your skin as you step outside with her to wait for the Uber she ordered to pull up.

“I love you and I want what’s best for you, and if you think that there might be something there with this Mingyu guy then I hope you’re right, I really do,” she says, a smile softening her expression. “I just want you to be careful, ok?”

“Okay,” you sigh, hugging your arms tight against your chest to fight off the wind as it blisters through your thin jacket. “I love you, too. And I will be careful, I promise. I’m not really too keen to repeat my last relationship either…”

“Good,” she nods, eyes roaming to the curb as a slick black sedan pulls up. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to throw yourself too big of a pity party before then.” She waves goodbye as she strides towards the car. You roll your eyes, returning the wave, before starting your brisk walk the few blocks back to the condo.

Time passes slowly in the new stasis of your life. You take the new opportunity in the wake of your hangout to bury yourself in work and get through some projects that had been building up untouched while you were feeling sorry for yourself. You kept up with regular jogs with Seungcheol, largely at his behest, and they were starting to become an enjoyable break in your days. A way to clear your mind and focus your attention on your body. It also did not escape your notice that the route he was taking you on now steered clear of the street where you had seen Wonwoo a few weeks ago. You use your commitment to the new routine as a silent thank you to him for somehow knowing what you needed when you needed it.

Vernon was becoming a favourite of yours as well. A quiet denizen of the condo; he showed up at random hours, taking a seat near you but not too close, reading through scripts or scrolling on his phone in companionable silence as you worked. It was like living with a cat that took care of itself and had an impressive collection of beanies.

Mingyu you tried to avoid, for the most part. He still plagued your thoughts on a daily basis, but out of respect for your friends’ concerns you wanted to give this budding infatuation time to settle into shape. To give yourself time to try and figure out what your real feelings on the matter were. You tried to find a delicate balance between roommate and acquaintance, figuring out his general schedule and adjusting your own accordingly so that you weren’t caught in any more awkward situations in the middle of the night or without anyone else around.

All of these measures were helping to make you feel more at home in the condo. Less like an interloper disrupting their days and more like a part of the makeshift family–even if that part for now was cousin, twice-removed.

As a result you were spending less time doing your work from the cafe and much more of it huddled over your laptop on the coffee table in the living room. Projects were getting done quicker, though it did mean that you were seeing Seulgi less often.

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Seulgi’s face blinks to life on the screen of your phone as you finally accept her FaceTime call. “Are you still moping?”

“I’m not moping!” you defend, raising the phone to hide the view of the pajamas you’ve been wearing for the past 24 hours as you were locked in a death-match with an upcoming deadline.

“Well how many more projects do you have left to do before we can go out? It’s been two weeks since I saw you now that you’re actually working from home,” she sighs in exasperation. Judging by the smoked out black liner defining her eyes, she was heading out tonight with or without you anyway. “Yerim is in town and she’s been asking about you.”

“Yerim? Wait, since when? I thought she was still in England?” you straighten up at the mention of your distant friend’s name.

“She’s back for now to get some visa renewal stuff done,” Seulgi answers, “and we’re going out tonight so you should come if you’re not still buried under a mountain of work.”

You glance at the screen of your laptop, folders stacked on your desktop in a messy landscape of the digital mountain you created for yourself. The thought was tempting but you knew Yerim and you knew what a night out with her always entailed. Read: getting black out drunk in a club and stumbling home at 6:00am the next morning. You had made a lot of progress scaling your workload, but you weren't sure that even without work you would have the energy needed for a night out like that.

The front door clicks open behind you and you spin your head to spout a quick greeting. Mingyu nods a quick hello, arms loaded with bags of groceries, before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Seulgi asks, noting the interruption in your conversation.

“Mingyu,” you answer, mindlessly pushing yourself off the ground and bringing her with you as you walk into the kitchen behind him in search of a glass of water. He smiles at you as you enter but says nothing as Seulgi’s voice rings out through your phone.

“Ah,” she smirks, “the one with the nipples?” You roll your eyes at the clear attempt to embarrass you but nod—pointedly ignoring the man in question as he sputters next to you at the comment. You fill a glass with water from the filtered jug in the fridge. “So are you coming tonight or should I tell Yerim you’re too depressed?”

You give it a moment of thought. You haven’t seen Yerim since she moved to the UK in the middle of her third year of university, after the rest of you had already graduated. She sent some odd gifts here and there—chocolate, snacks, a figurine of Shakespeare wearing heart print boxers—but communication had dwindled as you all found your footing in your adult lives, far removed from the heady days of hedonistic college life.

“Well first of all, don’t tell her I’m depressed, ‘cause I’m not,” you emphasise and Seulgi laughs at the bitter defense, “but I don’t think I can make it tonight. We should make plans for dinner or something before she leaves, though. Something a little more lowkey than the club.”

“Fine, be boring,” she sighs. “By the way, Yerim brought a friend back with her. He’s apparently cute and not completely useless. She thought you might like to meet him, just as a distraction. Or a rebound that’s not going to jeopardize your living situation. He’s also coming tonight”

You groan, settling down in a kitchen chair—opposite to the one Mingyu had sat down in with his reheated leftovers. He watches you with mild interest out of the corner of his eye while you try to think of a way to convince Seulgi that you don’t need Yerim’s charity date. “I would, but I already have plans tonight,” you lie, hoping she buys it without question.

“Oh?” she asks, eyes narrowed in cautious suspicion. “Do you have other friends?”

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes, “but no, actually. It’s just with my roommate.”

“Which one?” she probes, digging you deeper into the grave of your own lie.

“Oh uh–” you stutter but your eyes flicker above the screen of your phone, locking in on Mingyu’s own wide brown gaze. “Mingyu. We’re going to dinner tonight.”

He opens his mouth to speak, clearly confused by being dragged into your mess, but you shake your head lightly—willing him to just roll with it. He clamps his mouth shut and returns to his bowl of stew.

“Mingyu?” Her surprise is genuine and you can tell she’s starting to believe you. A flicker of concern shines in her eyes. “Is it like…a date?”

“No, Seulgi,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. She was edging dangerously close to that ‘jeopardizing your living situation’ territory on her own. “It’s just dinner. With a roommate.”

“Okay,” she drawls, “but if you end up against a wall with his face between your thighs—”

“Goodbye, Seulgi,” you end the call with a panicked stab of your finger and lean back in your chair, eyes shut tight against the rising tide of anxiety. You feel lightheaded. Hopefully Mingyu didn’t catch that last part.

“Did we—” He clears his throat. His voice, hesitant and low, floating in and dispeling your faint hope that he hadn’t been paying attention. “Did we have plans I forgot about?”

You want to laugh, he sounds so genuinely worried. It forces a bitter bubble of bile to rise up into your throat. “No,” you shake your head, clearing it with a sip of water. “Don’t worry you don’t have to go out to dinner with me, I just really didn’t want to go out tonight. Yerim is sort of wild sometimes and the thought of meeting some stuffy English guy in a club was making me feel ill.”

“Oh,” he smiles—also hesitant, but you can see a hint of his canines poking out behind his lips. “Well, glad I could be of service, then.” His smile widens and you can’t help but return it with one of your own.

“You have been most helpful,” you laugh. “Sorry for using you as a scapegoat. Also sorry about the nipples thing, Seulgi has a selective memory.”

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, the flush of warmth in his skin betrays the hint of embarrassment he’s trying to mask. You smile at the grace he’s giving you in what could have been an exceptionally awkward moment (especially after weeks of avoiding being alone with him) and push your chair back–wooden legs sliding against the tile. You stand up, preparing to turn around and hunker back down in front of your laptop screen, but Mingyu calls out your name before you get the chance.

“Yeah?” you reply, half-turned towards the living room.

“If you do,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “If you do want to go out to dinner tonight though…I could do that. I would uh…I’d like that.”

Your eyes trail from his still slightly pink face to his nearly empty bowl of leftovers. “But you already ate?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A gesture so familiar to you from spending so much time with Wonwoo, but it looks different on him. Less like an anxious tick and more like a bashful habit. “I can eat again though,” he drops his hand from his neck and pats his stomach twice, “I’m a bottomless pit.”

You should say no. You know you should say no. You shouldn’t dig yourself any deeper into this hole than you already have. But looking at him now, eyes so wide and genuine—freely offering you this tether of kindness—you can’t seem to bring yourself to summon up the word.

“Okay,” you reply, deadpan. Numbed with the confusion and surprise of this sudden change of plans so easily agreed to. So easily ruining weeks of careful avoidance and the cooling off of the one-sided tension you felt when you were near him.

“Great,” he grins, white teeth glistening in the bright lights of the kitchen. “I need to grab a shower first and make a quick call, but how about we head out in an hour? What kind of food are you in the mood for? Do you have any favourite spots?”

“I uh—” you stammer, unsure of the answer to the posed question. “I’m fine with anything. I don’t go out for dinner a lot so I don’t really know that many restaurants…”

“No problem,” he smiles again, standing up and grabbing his bowl. “I know plenty, I’ll bring you to a good one. Promise.” He winks before turning around to rinse out his dish and your heart skips a beat at the expression. One you would so often find lecherous and off-putting seems somehow so endearing coming from him. You scold your brain for the thought before stalking back to your room to change out of your pajamas and attempt to appear somewhat presentable.

The lights of the city cast their soft glow over the water of the slow moving river. A hypnotizing dance of yellow and gold against the backdrop of the night sky. It lulls your thoughts–quietens them to a dull roar–as you sit next to Mingyu on a park bench.

You had finished dinner a half hour ago; a mouthwatering feast of flavour grilled by the deft hands of your roommate himself. You watched as he took to the task with an almost reverent disposition—ushering the food through the cycle of cooking as you sat across from him, absorbed in the aroma and savouring each morsel he placed in front of you.

You had worried that he was going to take you to some uptight, fine dining restaurant where each dish was somehow the size of your pinky finger while costing more than you made in a day (Mingyu did have a vibe of luxury about him); but when he opened the door to the small, hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint in a random side-street you felt the tension in your shoulders ease and you were finally able to let yourself relax.

He ordered–a generous selection of high-quality but reasonably priced beef–and you sat and ate and talked. It was normal and nice and the old wood-planked walls of the restaurant leant the entire dinner an air of casualness that your anxiety-addled brain desperately needed. Just a nice normal dinner with a roommate who you did not have any romantic attraction to at all.

Conversation continued after dinner ended. He was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and you lost yourself in it, completely forgetting about your previous plan to avoid him, as he paid the bill. You continued to talk as you left the restaurant, stepped back out onto the street, and as you continued to walk together until you saw the Han River stretching out in front of you.

You hadn’t been paying attention as you walked–just let your feet move under the vague assumption that you were just heading back home–so reaching the river had come as a surprise. Mingyu’s face remained impassive as he led you past the numerous couples dotting the riverbank, each splayed out on grass and blankets, bathed in the soft amber glow of the city. You followed him for a few hundred feet until he stopped at a small hill and sat down on a bench, draping his arm casually over the back as he leaned against the sun-faded wood.

You hesitate a minute before sitting down. The mirage of purely platonic companionship had dissipated step by step as you followed him downstream, watching the way his jacket moved against his torso–loosely fitted but structured enough to hint at the firmness of his shoulders underneath, swelling as his arms swung idly at his sides. Your mind blaring a fire red warning in Jeonghan’s voice: be careful. Mingyu notices you hesitate and offers a warm smile, just touching at the corners of his eyes. He moves over an inch on the bench to give you more space and your heart takes that moment to consider itself some sort of acrobat in your chest. You silence the warning, washing it out with your own self-soothing lies, before taking a seat next to him and focusing on the night skyline.

Living in the city always felt isolating. Like the loneliness of existence was only amplified by the millions of other lives that played out parallel to your own. Millions of other people with different thoughts, feelings, and experiences existing right next to yours–there, but never touching. Lines crossing and converging but rarely intertwining for longer than a heartbeat.

Wonwoo had been an anchor in that sea of loneliness. Something solid to hold onto as you were buffeted by the waves of life. Stabile, grounding. You never realised how much you needed that stability until it was no longer there. Until you were cast adrift once more, alone in the deep blue.

Seulgi was there of course–as well as your other friends and family–but it wasn’t the same. They were islands of reprieve to visit when needed, and to offer the same when they did, but it wasn’t the same as having that one person to tether yourself to. To merge your life with and create a new island on solid foundations. Unshakeable, until it’s not.

Maybe you were pathetic, relying on a partner for so much support. Needing someone to rescue you from your own life. Maybe you needed to save yourself for once.

“Do you ever get the feeling like you’re going to end up dying alone?” you ask the question, half expecting it to dissolve into the air in front of you and go completely unanswered. Unsure if you even want an answer or if you just needed to remove the thought from your mind.

Mingyu scoffs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glances at you sideways–evaluating. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you.”

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, a twinge of offense scurrying up at the comment. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, what makes you think you would?” he counters and you let a small laugh slip out at the seriousness of his expression.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, dismissing the thought and turning your attention back towards the view. Bitterly regretting altering the mood so seriously. You should have remained flippant, joyous. Unserious. But when did your mouth ever listen to you? “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he laughs, “you brought it up and now you’re avoiding the question?” You feel the heat of his body warm the air around you as he adjusts on the bench, angling away from the river to better face you and pry the answers free under the weight of his attention.

“You avoided mine!” you bite back in defense, turning in kind to face him, but realising the trap too late as he flashes you a wolfish grin.

“Ah-ha, so it was a serious question!” he cries, pleased with himself. “Listen if you want my honest answer, I will give it to you but I want an answer in return as well.”

You hesitate, not for the first time tonight—wavering at the edge of the offer and cursing your propensity for sticking your foot straight into your mouth at the drop of a hat.

Do you really want to open up to him like this?

It had been such a nice evening. Good food, good conversation, and a nice walk along the river. It had been a while since you had felt so at ease in someone's company. And yet, despite all of that, you had to go and get lost in your self-sabotaging, meandering thoughts and open your big dumb mouth. Did Mingyu even really want to know? He seemed friendly and open enough but you can’t help but hear Jeonghan’s voice as it bounces off the walls of your mind: ‘Mingyu is not serious’. Did he know what Pandora’s Box he was willingly opening by asking you? Did he care?

You fix your gaze on him, evaluating, searching his eyes for any sign of ambivalence or even trickery. He stares back, waiting patiently for you to mull it over, and you come up with no discernable ulterior motive. Nothing lurking in the clear brown of his eyes other than open curiosity and a slight glimmer of amusement.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent, falling back against the bench with a huff. You forgot Mingyu’s arm is resting against the back and you feel the pressure of it against you as you settle deeper into the bench. “Why do I think I’m going to die alone…” you repose the question, willfully ignoring the shiver that ripples out from the spot where his arm is pressed against you. You can feel the warmth of it even through your jacket. “Maybe because I’m a bit of an anxious wreck and that can’t be easy to deal with. Or maybe because I’ve managed to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu replies, assured in his denial of your reasoning.

You let out a mirthless laugh and glare into the middle distance. “Don’t think so? Don’t think what? That I’m not an anxious wreck? You clearly don’t know me that well.”

“No, I believe that part, though anxiety can be treated to a certain extent. I have this psychologist friend, Minghao, he talks a lot about it. I could get you his number if you want.” he offers and you furrow your brow at the suggestion.

“You want to set me up with a psychologist?”

He laughs, “not like a date. Like if you wanted to book an appointment to see him about it. You know, like a therapist?”

“Oh,” you mumble, immediately feeling stupid. “So what did you mean then?”

“Just that it takes two to fuck up a relationship most of the time. You can’t fuck up something that wasn’t ready to be fucked up, you know? No one is perfect, we all have issues so no relationship is ever perfect and that’s not the fault of just one person.”

“Wow,” you exhale. His words sink in, a stark contrast against the internal monologue of shame and blame you had callously constructed. A differing perspective roaring in to shake your foundations. You try to reckon with it, the thought that it might not be all your fault, and it clamours and clangs against your brain in the worst way. In a way that you know it might be true but you’re not ready to accept it yet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mingyu asks, momentarily rendered insecure by your plunge into melancholic silence.

“No, no,” you assure him, distantly amused by his immediate assumption that it might have been him that did something wrong. “It’s just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to word it. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so insightful.”

He snorts out a laugh, “thanks, I guess. I have my moments.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that I think you’re like…incapable of insight, just…” you pause, trying to reformulate the thought in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I’m just not used to getting reality checks like that from people I don’t really know that well.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughs again, in relief this time, and you feel the edge of tension you had been holding in your body ebb away. “Well, I mean it though,” he affirms, “I don’t think it means you’re going to die alone.”

“Okay, well,” you sigh, unsure where to follow this new proffered perspective, “thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he grins. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” You knit your brows in confusion, eliciting another laugh from your seatmate. “For what?”

“You answered my question, so it’s your turn to ask one,” he explains.

“I didn’t realise we were playing 20 questions,” you tease. The words leave your lips with a little more edge than you had intended and you wince. Why did you always sound so defensive? You glance at Mingyu and feel a slight sense of relief at the fact that he seemed not to have noticed the tone.

“Well, if you don’t have any questions, I’m fine with being the hot, mysterious one in the house,” he winks and again you find yourself not hating how he looks when he does it.

Still, you snort derisively in response. If only he knew how deeply not-mysterious he already was to you. “Hardly,” you reply. “Okay, fine. I have a question for you: why does The Notebook make you cry so much?”

Wide-eyed surprise ripples across his face, a tinge of red embarrassment colouring the tips of his ears, “who told you that?” he asks in a nervous half-whisper.

“Jeonghan might have mentioned it when I was moving in…”

“Traitor,” he seethes, running a hand through his hair as he considers this revelation before answering you. “It’s sad,” he states plainly after a moment’s hesitation and you ‘tsk’, refusing the easy answer.

“Lots of movies are sad, Mingyu. Why does this one in particular make you cry so much that I was warned never to watch it in the living room?”

He sighs again, heaves his chest in and out like an exasperated dog settling down for bed. You watch as he stares out over the river, wide brown eyes shimmering with the lights of the city, and wait for him to respond. You had never seen Wonwoo cry during a movie. You had barely seen Wonwoo cry at all. He kept his emotions held tight, whether for self-protection or because he really was just that steady you didn’t know, but Mingyu’s upfront expressiveness was a breath of fresh air. Seeing someone so open at every moment with how they were feeling made you feel a little bit less alone with your own rapid shifts in mood. Maybe you weren’t the broken one.

“Fine,” he relents, “honestly, I know it’s corny. I know it’s a corny movie and it’s lame and dumb that an adult man with a job still bawls like a baby while watching it but I can’t help it. Seeing those two old people dying in bed together after reliving the tale of their love just gets me every single time. It’s a confusing mixture of sadness and hope and I have never been able to get through it without weeping.”

“Wow,” you remark and he shakes his head.

“Happy?” he huffs, again with an air of a disgruntled dog and you laugh.

“Very happy, thank you for sharing.”

“Okay my turn,” he grins, leaning back against the bench once more, the wood groaning slightly under his weight as it shifts.

“Good luck, movies don’t make me cry often.”

“Well you’ve gotta have some embarrassing secret. Otherwise we’re on uneven ground, and I don’t like that.”

“I’ve already told you something embarrassing,” you start to defend yourself but he shakes his head. Resolute.

“What? About thinking you fuck everything up?” You nod and he laughs, “that’s not embarrassing, that’s normal. Everyone thinks they’re more fucked up than they are.” He shrugs and you again marvel at how casually he accepts the very thing that feels so earth-shaking to you. “Tell me your most embarrassing secret.”

“That’s not a question, it’s a demand.” you point out and he nods, considering the rebuttal.

“Too broad? Okay, then what’s your favourite song?”

“How is that supposed to be embarrassing?” you ask, aghast.

“It’s not, I’m just curious. Not every question needs to be so heavy, you can get to know people through simpler things. Happy things,” he smiles again, coy, and your heart betrays you again with a flutter of wings against your chest.

“I’m not sure,” you muse. He starts to protest but you cut him off before he can begin, “there are too many songs that I love to feel like I can narrow it down to just one all–time favourite. Too many things to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Like, what am I doing when I am listening to it? Is it a song I could listen to anytime, anywhere? Does that make it a favourite or just an easy listen? Is it a song that fills me with a swell of emotions? A favourite from high school that still makes me nostalgic? Or a recent song that I’ve played on repeat too many times to count? You see…too many things to consider.”

“Wow, you’re right,” he laughs again, “you really are an overthinker.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“How about you just make me a playlist with all of the above and we’ll consider it answered?” he winks and you blink back at him, stunned to silence. Wonwoo never really got through the songs you would recommend to him, was Mingyu really going to go to the trouble of listening to an entire playlist? For his roommate?

“Oh–okay,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

Silence descends for a moment, settling comfortably between you, and you glance around in surprise to find that most of the people that had been here when you arrived have since departed. How long had you been sitting on this bench talking?

As if reading your thoughts, Mingyu clears his throat. “It’s getting late,” he feigns a yawn, forearm flexing as he brings his hand up to cover his mouth, “but you have one more question to even it up before we start walking back home.”

You sit still, contemplating. While teasing him had been fun, an overwhelming part of you wants to really get to know him. To know what makes him tick. What thoughts and desires lurk in the depths of those puppy brown eyes. To find out exactly what it was about him that was drawing you in so much despite your (and Seulgi’s and Jeonghan’s) better judgement.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” you ask finally. It feels like a silly question as soon as you ask it but you can’t take it back once it’s been spoken. And you do actually want to know the answer.

“Is that your final question?” he asks and you hesitate but nod. You’re curious about what kind of kid he was. What his dreams had been before the demands of adulthood had set in. “Alright, but it’s silly,” he warns and you wait silently for his response despite it, “I wanted to own my own bakery.”

“You wanted to own a bakery?” you parrot the response, surprised by his answer. “Really?”

“I told you it was silly,” he smiles, voice a slight quiver. You hadn’t expected the answer, true, but it’s the nervousness around it that is really taking you by surprise. Like it’s kid Mingyu answering the question and not the 20-something year old adult you had bought you dinner.

“No, no, it’s not silly, I just didn’t expect it,” you reassure him and the expression of embarrassment on his face melts back into neutrality. The wave of nerves slipping away into the ether. “Why didn’t you do it?”

He shrugs, “my parents didn’t think it was a suitable career path for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bristle, feeling defensive on behalf of the kid he once was.

“I never asked for clarification,” he laughs. “Just went to school for business like they suggested. Jokes on them, though, I can still make a mean sourdough.”

“What can’t you do?” you mumble, intending the comment to be unheard but clearly failing as Mingyu throws his head back with a laugh before getting to his feet.

“Well, what about you?” he asks as you join him and you both head back down the path towards the main road. “What was your childhood dream?”

“I always wanted to be an artist,” you say, “and I sort of am doing that now just in a more corporate-friendly way. Career was the one aspect of life that I always felt I had a handle on. There was no guesswork. It was just me involved.”

“Your parents didn’t have any different thoughts as to what they wanted you to do?” he asks, a slight note of surprise colouring his voice.

“Not really, no,” you shrug, “they were pretty supportive, honestly. I think the only things they really cared about was that I got an education and was able to pay for rent and food.”

“That’s lucky, it’s nice to have such supportive parents.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you nod. It had never been something you had actively thought about, just taken for granted and assumed it was sort of the same for everyone. You make a mental note to call your parents soon and catch up as you and Mingyu leave the park and the river disappears behind you.

“Would you ever bake something for me?” you ask, matching Mingyu’s stride as you take a turn down the block towards home.

“That depends,” he replies, amusement clear in his voice.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you want to hang out again in the future,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. You see a hint of blush reddening the tips of his ears again and it makes you wonder. Was it just the slight chill in the air causing it?

“Well, we do live together so I think that’s almost inevitable,” you laugh, trying to brush the niggling feeling off with an assurance that you did not feel.

“True,” he concedes, “then I guess I will. Are you more of a sweet or savory person?”

“That depends,” you reply, a small grin turning up the corners of your lips.

“Overthinking pastries now too?”

“No,” you laugh, all lingering feelings of defensiveness gone from you. “It depends on what you’re better at making.”

“Oh, I’m good at it all,” he replies, voice smooth–silk slipping over mahogany–as he holds open the door to the condo complex for you. You glance at him, eyes meeting his in the dim light of the lobby, and study him for a moment. He’s smiling, cool and casual, but there’s a seriousness hiding in the depths of his expression that you can’t quite unravel. It draws you in, curiouser and curiouser, until you find yourself face to face with a crossroads. Two paths diverge in the yellow woods of your mind and the only thing that remains is to choose.

“Then I’ll take it all,” you reply after a breath, thoughts slipping into place. Threshold crossed, decision made. You step into the lobby and head towards the elevator leaving Mingyu to trail behind.

The condo is blessedly quiet when you arrive upstairs; everyone else scattered throughout the city with Friday night plans. The absence of Jeonghan in particular is a relief, you knew that no matter what the context was, if he saw you return with Mingyu at this time of night you would be primed for some form of lecture or another. Whether verbal or simply that knowing stare he likes to give you when he thinks you’re being stupid.

That silent cloud of judgement would have been especially intrusive tonight as you step in through the front door barely clinging onto the tenuous air of bravado you had conjured up in the lobby downstairs. It would have shaken your resolve to follow this thought of intrigue towards Mingyu and thrust you right back into your torrential thoughts once more, spinning haphazardly between mourning over what was lost and what might not ever be.

Instead you stand with shaky confidence and a pounding in your chest as you bid Mingyu goodnight, savouring that look of intrigue you’re sure is mirrored in his own expression as you close your bedroom door for the night and bar any doubt from creeping in behind you.

You listen through the walls as his own door clicks shut before rummaging through the unpacked duffel bag in the corner of your room. You dig through unsorted paperwork, unopened mail, random knick knacks you had found no home for yet until your fingers grasp the object you were seeking.

Sleek, black silicone emerges from the bag and you glance behind you as if Mingyu might be standing there, ready to chastise you for your impure thoughts.

You stand up, hesitating, evaluating the vibrator as it sits like a brick in your palm. You had only used it once, years ago, after buying it at a convention with Seulgi before it ended up buried deep in the recesses of your drawer. At the time your sex life had been consistent and satisfying–it was early days for you and Wonwoo and the excitement and novelty of having each other at your fingertips for the whims of the moment had kept you too busy to even remember that you had the toy stored away in the first place. It wasn’t until you were packing to move out that you rediscovered it.

You hesitate for a second before thinking ‘fuck it, I paid like $200 for this, I’m gonna get some use out of it’ and slipping out of your clothes and into your bed.

You try to set the mood in your mind, fingers swirling idly over your bare skin as you flip through mental images of celebrities, movie scenes, fantasies that you used to use to get in the mood. Anything to deepen that pressure that burned quietly inside of you. None of your old tricks produce results and you sigh, ready to give up on the activity completely, before you feel the distinct thud of Mingyu’s headboard against the wall.

You imagine Mingyu: what is he doing? Maybe sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through Instagram, or maybe he’s under his covers too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you?

You follow this thought where it takes you, back to that night the other week. Back to the low sound of his moaning carried through the drywall and plaster, the thudding of his headboard against your wall, back to that yawning pit in your stomach that felt like it might swallow you whole at any second. Your hand traces the path of the scene playing out in your mind, blazing a trail down your chest, stomach, and finally to the aching space between your thighs.

You recall the weight of Mingyu’s arm pressed against your back on the park bench–steady and solid. The sound of his voice and laughter muffling your gasp of surprise as you flick the vibrator on and jump at the sudden noise filling your room.

You flick it back off immediately, worrying that the distinctive buzzing sound would carry itself through the cover of your blankets and body and make it through the proven-thin walls towards Mingyu’s ears. He would know for sure you were in here thinking about him, fantasizing about his lips on your neck. The thought of discovery adds a confusing stab of guilt to the knotting in your guts but you do your best to squash it as it pops up. What exactly were you doing wrong? You were tired of denying yourself pleasure out of fear of other people’s judgements or shame. You flick the vibrator back on, this time prepared for the noise, and dig the object deeper between your thighs.

Maybe part of you wants him to hear you–wants him to know what you were doing alone in the dark in the bedroom next to him. Maybe, in this alternative timeline, he knocks softly on your door. His brown eyes rake over your naked body, bared to him like a gift prepared just for him. His sweatpants strain with the pressure of his bulge as his blood travels lower, and lower. Filling him with the desire as it fills you now. He steps forward, wavering at the threshold of your bed and asks, voice so low it plucks at the strings of your core, to join you. To help you release this coil of tension that had made its home inside of you, growing bigger and hungrier every single day since running into him half-naked in the kitchen that first night. Maybe he’s been running through this same scenario every night before bed, hand gripping his cock as it pulses in his hand, sweat beading his brow.

Alternative timeline or not, the thought itself is all that you need to push you over the edge as you move the vibrator against your clit, finding the right rhythm of pressure, the right balance of relief, to feed the beast of desire crying open-mouthed inside of you. To have your legs shaking and your core pulsing with waves of pleasure no longer denied. You cry out, muffling the sound with the back of your free hand, and for the first time in years it isn't Wonwoo's face clear in your mind as you reach your climax.

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

#caratlibrary #svthub #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #mingyu angst #wonwoo angst #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #chm updates

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copperbadge · 11 months

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Every time, you guys. Every time I look into alternatives to Lulu.com for self-publishing I come up with “Wow Lulu really is the best of a bad set of options, huh?”

Recently, Draft2Digital bought Smashwords in order to bring a print book company under their aegis; they’d formerly only done ebooks. I thought I might investigate them as an alternative to Lulu, which I’ve used for about twelve years now. For ebooks I would venture D2D is probably top of the line. For print books they are....not.

I’m writing this out half so other folks can see it but half so that in the future I can look this up and remind myself of why I’m still with Lulu.

TLDR: Not only does Draft2Digital want 60% of my print book royalties where Lulu takes 0%, and $30 for a proof that costs me $11 at Lulu, but I also appear to have solved the problem of why Lulu was making me price my books so goddamn artificially high. Which is like. Honestly the best anti-anxiety drug I’ve experienced this week.

Basically there are a number of elements that go into self-publishing with a print-on-demand service. For some publishers, there’s a “setup fee” which doesn’t really set anything up, it’s just there to be a fee, everything is done by computer on the back end. Traditionally, Lulu has not charged a setup fee. Smashwords used to charge $50, but Draft2Digital currently waives it. I was heartened by that because the setup fee was keeping me from migrating, since I can afford $50 but I balk at knowing I’m paying them $50 for nothing.

Next is the cost of printing -- what it costs the company in paper, ink, machinery, labor, etc, to just make a book with no profit. Lulu’s price calculus isn’t super clear and I’ve never bothered looking at what the breakdown is, because they’re pretty up-front -- they tell you in the process of setting the book up how much it’ll cost. In this case, a 140-page 6x9 trade paperback, no frills, which is how all my books are printed, is $5. Draft2Digital doesn’t tell you the flat price anywhere but they do offer the breakdown information; it costs $1.22 flat plus $0.0133 per page. So, for a 140 page book, the at-cost is $3.08. So far so good.

Now, if you’re going to sell through Lulu, the “at cost” is the minimum price. You won’t make any money but you CAN charge just $5 for a $5 book. Any pricing above that is your cut. So -- let’s price this 140 page trade paperback at $13-$15. That’s a bit high to be honest but let’s just see. At Lulu, your take is roughly $6-$8 based on those prices, because you’re just dropping out the cost of printing from the retail price.

At Draft2Digital, the same 140-page trade paperback, which remember is quoted as costing roughly $1.20 less to print than Lulu charges, gets you $2.75-$3.50 in royalties per book.

....wait, what?

So now we need to sidetrack a little but I promise it’s for a reason. One of the motivations for looking into a change to Draft2Digital is that I didn’t like that Lulu was setting higher “minimum prices” than I was accustomed to -- they would tell me the book only cost $5 to print but require me to sell it for $12 or similar, and I couldn’t work out why. I’m an idiot but the penny did finally drop: it’s because when you distribute them outside of Lulu (say, on Amazon or Barnes & Noble or similar) your royalties drop like a stone. $7 in royalties purchased through Lulu comes out to like twenty-five cents purchased through Amazon. So Lulu forces you to price the book at a point where you even GET royalties and don’t end up weirdly owing Amazon money. The “global distribution” is what’s driving that minimum up.

So in price-quoting a competitor I actually solved the problem with Lulu.

Which is good, because the fun doesn’t stop there. If you want a proof copy of a book from Lulu, it’s the at-cost of the book, plus tax, plus postage. Buying a proof copy of this book from Lulu would cost me $11. Lulu makes you order a new proof copy every time you make a change, which is shady, but usually I only need to make 1-2 changes across the life of a book, so at most the cost will probably be $35 and for that I’ll get three copies of the book. Draft2Digital doesn’t give you an option. If you want a proof pre-publication, it’s $30 flat. If you want to publish and then buy a copy you can, but you can only make one change to the book every 90 days once it’s published. If you want to make more than one change, it’s $25 every time you upload a new version of the manuscript within that 90 day period.

So Draft2Digital’s books cost less to print but they take a massive cut of your royalties out of the retail cost of the book. If the book costs $3 to print, and I price it at $15, that’s $12 in profit on the book. Of that $12, however, I only receive $4. Draft2Digital literally wants 2/3 of my royalties per book. They want $20 more than Lulu to send me a proof copy. If I need to correct the proof, the correction is free, but I’m assuming the second proof will also cost me $30. Any changes after that, within 90 days, will cost $25 plus $30 for a new proof.

Which means my upfront costs at Lulu are about $35 per published book; to do the same thing at Draft2Digital is between $60 and $105 depending on whether I need to make changes after the second proof copy. And even after that, my royalties at Lulu are just about twice what they would be at Draft2Digital per purchase.

So, well, Lulu it is. And the problem I was having with Lulu is solved if I decide to just retail through Lulu rather than selling globally. Which...selling globally has done two things that I’m aware of:

1. Fucked up my author page so badly on Amazon that one of my books is still attributed to Kathleen Starbuck, and one of her books is for sale on my author page.

2. Raised the minimum price I’m allowed to set my books at by like, 40%.

So I think probably what’s going to happen is going forward my books will be for sale only on Lulu. I can still assign them ISBNs and they still will ship worldwide, and the prices will fall significantly. My deepest apologies to those of you who have paid an artificially inflated price for the last few books; I’m going to fix that going forward, I’m going to go in and try to fix it retroactively in the books that are already on Lulu, and if it’s any consolation at least the cash came to me, and TWO THIRDS OF IT didn’t go to Lulu.

It’s gonna take me a little time, untangling Lulu’s relationship to other retailers is tricky, but eventually the Shivadh Omnibus and Twelve Points should come down significantly in price, and there ought to be a dollar or two drop for the older books as well.

This is why it always pays to do the math, even if like me you are dreadful at it.

#selfpub #self publishing #publishing #draft2digital #lulu #archive

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wren-kitchens · 8 months

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guess who forgot they can post writing on tumblr againnn anyway this was bribery so stiff would watch rtc HKFHD

(this is part of the sniflins au! idk if it’s canon or not but it takes place in that world! the sniflins is an au by myself, @angeart @loveroped and @stiffyck !)

jimmy can feel scar smiling against his neck, nuzzling closer every so often, and his stomach fills with butterflies. his chest is filled with a fuzzy glow—a wonderful mix of both his own and scar’s happiness. he can no longer tell what emotion belongs to who, and it’s wonderful. under the lazy warmth of the afternoon sun, it’s as if there’s no one else in the world aside from them, and jimmy couldn’t be happier.

that idea is very abruptly disputed, as joel snores loudly from across the picnic blanket. jimmy stifles a laugh, and he can hear scar giggling quietly in his ear (which, for the record, might just be the best sound ever).

both grian and joel fell asleep a good ten minutes ago—grian almost fell face first into a cupcake, and joel dozed off midway through insisting that he was not going to fall asleep at all. scar and he have since concluded that it was the sniffer traits that made them so sleepy in comparison to them, and that they will never let either of them live this down.

“ruins the moment a bit, doesn’t it?” jimmy jokes quietly, if only to hear scar’s laugh again.

scar hums, the sound vibrating against jimmy’s skin. “well, I don’t know. doesn’t make you any less beautiful.”

jimmy feels his face burn in a way that is entirely unrelated to the sun. “oh my gosh.” he buries his head in his hands.

scar is laughing again, sitting up with the sole intention of making jimmy even more flustered, it seems. “oh, but you are! look at you!”

“I will hit you.” jimmy says, muffled through his palms.

“I don’t believe you.” scar teases, sing-song. “you love me too much.”

“I absolutely don’t.” jimmy says. even to his own ears, it sounds laughably false. but right now, he’s proving a point, so.. shut up.

scar presses a kiss to jimmy’s neck, and jimmy feels his face grow impossibly warmer. “oh yeah? now, unless our soulbound broke in the last few seconds, i’m fairly certain you do, sweetheart.”

and- whilst jimmy may not usually be the most forward person in the world, desperate times call for desperate measures. the desperate times in question being his immense flusteredness, and the desperate measures- well..

jimmy takes his hands away from his face, shifts to face scar, grabs his collar and pulls him into a kiss. scar is surprised initially, but melts into it almost immediately—that wonderful glow growing in jimmy’s chest.

and- wow. jimmy somehow manages to forget just how happy scar makes him—not that he’s complaining; it’s something of a fantastic surprise every time he remembers again. like right now, for instance. because scar’s hands are at jimmy’s waist and cupping his cheek, and he’s leaning ever further into the kiss, and jimmy can feel the thin scar that runs through scar’s bottom lips and it’s bliss.

they pull away to catch their breath, giggling breathlessly all the while, and jimmy takes the opportunity for payback. he peppers scar’s face in kisses, delighting as he laughs, and occasionally giving scar’s lips a teasing peck.

“point- point proven!” scar is saying, despite the fact that jimmy has considered stopping at least twice and each time scar whined until he kissed him again.

“mm, no, I don’t think it has.” jimmy grins. “I think I might have to kiss you forever, actually.”

“I mean-“ scar says, and jimmy cackles at the abrupt shift in his tone. “I wouldn’t object, per say-“

“you’re an idiot.” jimmy says, fond as anything. god, he loves this man so much.

scar beams, as if he knows exactly what jimmy is thinking. “I know.”

#god no wonder I don’t post here the formatting is a fucking nightmare #it’s not my fault that the indentations are messy blame tumblr #trafficshipping #scaridarity #therss another one i’m so sure #solidaritimes #THATS IT #snifflins au #jimmy solidarity #gtw scar #gtws #wren writes

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mcdonaldsplayground · 1 year

Text

| actually the worst | part 4

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: just when things start to seem decent between you and ao'nung, you discover that he's done something terrible. though your family begins to forgive him, you know he doesn't deserve forgiveness for being a total dick. so why do you feel so bad for him?

includes: enemies to lovers, swearing, teasing, mentions of fighting/death, ao'nung being a terror😐

word count: 3k

a/n: okay i thiiiink i can wrap this up in one or two more parts, so hopefully this series will be finished up in a few days. i’m sorry i think this is getting repetitive, but i swear things are gonna change up a bit soon😏

“What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?” Your father demanded, sounding like he was gearing up to give one of his famous “Lo’ak Lectures” as you and your siblings called them. His disappointment was understandable, but you were itching to try and set the record straight. You thought Lo’ak was incredibly stupid for starting a fight, sure, but it seemed unfair for him or any of you to get into trouble for standing up for yourselves.

“Stay out of trouble…” Lo’ak answered wearily.

“Stay out of trouble, right.” Jake was about to go off when Neteyam tried to intervene.

“It was my fault-”

“I don’t think so. You have got to stop taking the heat for this knucklehead!” Jake exclaimed, making you flinch. He was being harsh, as per usual, so you decided to see if he would listen to you.

“Dad. Ao’nung was picking on Kiri.” You said calmly, hoping your twitching tail didn’t betray how angry you actually were.

“And you.” Lo’ak added, giving you a look. “He called them freaks.” As if he hasn’t called me that a million times already, you thought to yourself, though you had to admit that this time was less teasing and more targeted.

“And he hit you?” Your dad questioned, gesturing to the newly forming bruise on your cheek, anger flickering in his eyes. You could tell what he thought of Ao’nung without even asking.

“What? No!” You couldn’t help but reach up and brush your fingers over your cheek, wincing a little. You hadn’t stopped thinking about Ao’nung’s expression after you had gotten hit. You had never seen him look at anyone that way before, almost like he was actually concerned. “It was an accident. I stepped into the middle of the fight like an idiot.” You shrugged, realizing you felt a little afraid for Ao’nung, not wanting him to take the heat for something you could never imagine him doing. You took solace in the fact that the feeling was involuntary. You still wanted to kick his teeth in.

Your father sighed, looking around as he decided how to respond. “Lo’ak, go apologize to Ao’nung.” He said finally, sending your heart plummeting into your stomach.

“What?” Lo’ak breathed, incredulous.

“He’s the chief’s son, do you understand? I don’t care how you do it, just go make peace. Just go.” He shooed Lo’ak outside, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched the boy stalk angrily away. You groaned, thinking about how smug Ao’nung was going to be now. You imagined your life was about to become insufferable.

“So, what’d the other guys look like?” Jake tried to ease the tension, though he appeared genuinely curious. You rolled your eyes.

“Worse.” Neteyam replied.

“That’s good.” Even with a straight face, you could tell your father was secretly proud of his sons, but it did little to make you feel better.

“A lot worse.” Neteyam decided to push his luck, smiling cheekily as he peered up to get your father’s reaction. The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of Jake’s mouth before returning to his familiar strict expression.

“Get out of here.” He said, and you and Neteyam quickly distanced yourselves from the marui.

“Should we go find Lo’ak?” You asked. “He’s probably gonna have permanent ego damage after this.”

Neteyam laughed. “Probably. But nah, he’ll come find us after he’s done licking his wounds. Let’s go tell Kiri and Tuk what happened.” He tugged you toward the village, the two of you setting off to find your sisters.

It was getting late, but you didn’t have an appetite, so when your siblings started heading back to the marui for dinner, you decided to walk around the beach instead.

You spent most of your walk looking down at the sand, trying to spot some nice shells to collect. You were just about to reach down to grab an iridescent-looking one when you bumped into something warm and solid. Blinking, you realized that your face was mere inches away from a broad chest. You backed up hurriedly, blushing.

“Sorry I-” Your apology was cut short when you finally looked up and saw those piercing blue eyes staring down at you. He seemed just as startled as you, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. The look on his face was strange, guilty almost. You figured he would have been cocky as ever after Lo’ak’s apology, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Looks like Lo’ak got you good.” You broke the silence, deciding the most normal way to go about this interaction would be to tease him. He took the bait, narrowing his eyes as a sly smile tugged at his lips. His eyes roamed your face, inciting that buzzing feeling in your stomach that often came about under his gaze.

“Looks like-” But his words died at his lips when his stare came to rest on your cheek. Most of your hair had fallen down to cover it, but you guessed that some of your bruise must have been peeking out enough for him to notice now. He stepped forward seemingly without thinking, gingerly pushing your hair back behind your ear as he examined the bruise with a hard expression. You were frozen in place, unsure of how to respond.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, his voice low and quiet.

“Um, what?” You couldn’t help but be confused, having never seen the tall boy act like this before.

“Does it hurt?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you think, genius?” This made him huff in annoyance, but he didn’t move away.

“Come,” Was his only response, placing his hand on your back as if to guide you along with him when he started toward the village. Against your better judgement, you found yourself being guided along with little resistance.

“Where are you taking me, weirdo?” You tried to put some venom into your words in an attempt to get the old Ao’nung back instead of this strange, concerned clone of his.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He bit back, rolling his eyes. There he was. You almost smiled.

“You know, if you’re taking me somewhere to murder me, everyone is going to suspect you, like, immediately.”

“I’m not going to murder you.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Stop asking dumb questions, forest girl.”

“Just tell me where-”

“Maybe I will murder you just to have some peace and quiet.” Ao’nung growled, steering you up to a very small marui pod that seemed to be unoccupied. “We’re here.”

You chuckled, unsurprised that this whole thing had turned out meaningless. “Wow, this is really nice. Thank you for the pointless walk and terrible company, but I have to get going now.” You deadpanned, turning to go, only for him to grab your arm with a huff.

“Would you just sit down? I know what I’m doing.” He gestured to the small ledge just outside of the marui. You rapidly tried to work out what his end goal was, but obliged to his request, sitting cautiously as he ducked inside. When you peeked into the pod, you noticed various pots, bottles, and dried greenery, but you and Ao’nung seemed to be the only living beings around the area. The thought set your heart racing.

“Here. Now stay still.” Ao’nung popped back out of the pod, holding a small pot of what looked like ground up herbs in some kind of paste. It was then that you remembered who his mother was and figured this was probably storage for her medicines. You tensed, scooting away from him.

“I am not letting you play doctor on me.” You scoffed.

“Don’t be such a baby. My mother is Tsahìk, I know what I’m doing.” He sat down beside you, waiting annoyedly for you to allow him closer.

“Yeah? Well, you’re still a dipshit, so stay away from me with that stuff.” Ao’nung shook his head, groaning.

“You are impossible,” He hissed. “I use this all the time on myself, okay? It works.”

You glared at him for a long moment before giving in, still wary of his insistence to help you. He smirked when you relaxed somewhat, and dipped his fingers into the paste as he leaned toward you.

You gasped a little when he made contact with the bruise, surprised at the coldness.

“Don’t tell me that hurt, forest girl.” Ao’nung mocked quietly, smirking at your annoyed expression.

“Was just cold.” You mumbled, and he went back to gently spreading the paste along your tender cheek. His featherlight touch and warm breath fanning across your skin gave you goosebumps. The silence was too much for you.

“I don’t know if you got brain damage from being punched too hard, but we,” You whispered, gesturing dramatically between the two of you. “Don’t get along.” You stared directly into his amused eyes. “It’s actually weirding me out that you’re being… nice?”

“Just shut up, freak. Listen to the ocean or something so I can enjoy the quiet.”

You wanted to keep talking just to annoy him, but you soon settled into the comfortable silence, listening to the soft lapping waves and the insects humming.

The sun had begun to set, washing everything in golden light as it started to dip below the horizon. Ao’nung’s skin looked soft in the golden glow, his eyes turning a shade of blue that you didn’t even know existed. You were staring but you couldn’t pull your eyes away, not when he was practically caressing your face. Suddenly, his eyes flickered away from his focus on your bruise and locked with yours. The air in the minuscule space between you felt charged with electricity. You briefly wondered what it would be like to lean a few inches forward and kiss his cheek. Or his lips.

“[Y/N]! There you are!” Neteyam’s relieved voice instantly shattered the strange bubble you and Ao’nung had just been living in. Both of you jerked away from one another, as if burned. “What are you doing here?” Neteyam’s tone changed when he took in the full scene before him. Despite the distance you had just put between yourselves, there was a only so much space on the marui ledge, and both of you looked flushed.

When he didn’t receive an answer right away, Neteyam stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at Ao’nung. “I asked what you are doing here. With my sister.” He said through clenched teeth, looking murderous.

“Teyam, it’s okay. He was helping me with this. See?” You turned your cheek slightly to show him your newly treated bruise. Neteyam’s gaze flicked between that and the paste still in Ao’nung hand. He seemed satisfied enough with the answer, but still didn’t relax much.

“Well, mom and dad want you back home soon. It’s almost dark.” He stretched his hand out to you, helping you down from the ledge to stand beside him. Your heart was still racing and your skin burning as your mind tried to make sense of everything. Ao’nung said nothing, though his own chest was heaving slightly.

“Let’s go.” You murmured, lightly pulling your brother away. “Um- thank you.” The words came out robotic, and couldn’t bring yourself to meet Ao’nung’s eyes as you said them. You didn’t wait for a response before you and Neteyam slowly trailed away. You were rapidly trying to decide how to explain everything to your brother when he spoke, seemingly more worried about something else.

“I thought Lo’ak would have been with you.” He was clearly deep in thought, concerned over something you were unaware of.

“Why? Didn’t he go back to the marui for dinner?” That’s where you assumed he would have been. It wasn’t like him to skip a meal.

“No, he didn’t.” Neteyam shared a look with you. “I told mom and dad that I would bring him back with you.” He looked scared now, and you didn’t blame him. As you racked your brain, also growing scared for your brother, you suddenly stopped, remembering something.

“Ao’nung!” You whipped around, starting quickly back toward the marui where the boy still sat. His surprised expression rapidly shifted into confusion when he noticed the look on your face.

“Where is Lo’ak?” You demanded, not missing the way he tensed before slumping his shoulders slightly. He looked down.

“I was going to tell you…” He started and it took everything in you to stay calm and let him continue. “That’s why I was on the beach. I was looking for you. But then I saw you were hurt and I got distracted-”

“Where. Is. Lo’ak?” You breathed, far too mad to register his unusual remorsefulness.

“We took him out hunting,” His head lowered even more, his voice downcast. “Past the reef…”

It was safe to say that your entire family was seething at Ao’nung, though your parents clearly tried not to show it. You knew they constantly worried about offending the Olo’eyktan- and Ao’nung happened to fall under that umbrella of protection. You, however, couldn’t care less who he was. You wanted to kill him.

He had told your parents everything after you and Neteyam dragged him back home, which resulted in a search party being sent out to look for Lo’ak. The thought that he might not ever return gripped your throat and lungs, making it hard to breathe. Tears were streaming down your face, but you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed, despite the large amount of people who could see you crying. Ao’nung was trying to help by explaining where they had taken your brother, but you had begun to notice that he would frequently pause to glance at you from afar. You kept your distance for fear of not being able to control yourself if you got too close. It didn’t matter that he had already apologized a thousand times. It didn’t matter that he seemed genuinely sorry. That damage was done.

As you began gearing up to take your ikran out (against the wishes of your parents), a horn sounded, followed by some unintelligible shouts while a crowd formed at the dock. You instantly dropped your gear and ran toward the commotion, arriving just in time to see Lo’ak approaching on the back of someone’s ilu. He stepped off easily, thanking his rescuer before turning to face the crowd. Without a second thought, you jumped down into the sand to meet him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. He may have been larger than you, but you felt that you could have picked him up and swung him around.

“I’m okay.” He breathed, patting your back in reassurance. You only released him when you noticed his vision fall on Ao’nung who was standing on the dock above you. Lo’ak narrowed his eyes, starting menacingly toward him.

“Hey, hey.” Your father had appeared behind you, grabbing Lo’ak to prevent him from getting into his second fight of the day. “Let’s have a look at you.” He quickly examined your brother, who surprisingly appeared unharmed. Only a few marks here and there.

“He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches.” Jake was quick to try and wave everyone away, as if that would magically fix the situation. The tension only tightened as Neytiri arrived, assessing Lo’ak’s condition.

“I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.” She hissed, making a clawing motion at his face. Lo’ak, however, seemed to have calmed down, an almost bored expression on his face.

“No! My son knows better than to take him outside the reef.” Tonowari spoke up, putting a hand on Ao’nung to push him down to his knee, looking more ashamed than ever. Despite what he had done to your brother, your felt a pang in your heart.

“This is not Ao’nung’s fault.” Lo’ak suddenly said, standing up straighter, and you couldn’t believe your ears. What was he doing? Even Ao’nung looked extremely taken aback. “This was my idea. Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it.” If you didn’t know him so we’ll, you might have just believed him. A stunned silence followed, no one sure of what to say in the face of such a humbling remark. Eventually, Lo’ak stiffly nodded at Tonowari and set off toward the village.

You quickly scrambled after him, dying to ask him why the hell he was suddenly being so humble.

“Lo’ak!” You panted, jogging up beside him. He didn’t slow down, but he didn’t look annoyed that you were there, either. “What was that?” You pressed. He only shrugged, making you roll your eyes. “Lo’ak, come on, why-” You didn’t get to finish before someone approached on Lo’ak’s other side.

“Why did you speak for me?” Ao’nung asked, confounded. You stayed silent, hoping Lo’ak would actually give a proper answer.

“Because I know what it’s like to be one big disappointment.” He turned to briefly meet Ao’nung’s eyes, not a hint of sarcasm or malice in his tone. He was speaking from his heart, causing yours to break a little in turn. Ao’nung stopped walking, a curious expression overtaking his face, though you and Lo’ak kept on walking. It took a good amount of self-control for you to rip your semi-murderous gaze off Ao’nung and keep walking straight. It was silent between you for a long while.

“So, what?” You finally cut in. “Are you two just on good terms now?” It was mostly a joke, but Lo’ak dipped his head into a nod.

“I’m not going to hold a grudge about it, if that’s what you mean.” He said, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? I mean, after everything you’re not even a little bit mad? You could have died, Lo’ak.”

“Look, he apologized. He seemed weirdly genuine about it. Besides, if we keep holding grudges then this stupid revenge cycle is never going to end.” You had never, in your entire life, heard your youngest brother say something so wise. It made you wonder what really happened to him out at sea.

“Okay, mr. peacemaker. Well, I’m still gonna be pissed at him.” Lo’ak laughed at this, turning to walk backwards in order to face you. It was good to see him smiling again.

“That tracks. Hating each other seems to be your guys’ favourite game.” He grinned as you scowled.

“It’s not a game, Lo’ak. He’s actually the worst.”

“Yeah, actually the worst guy to have a crush on. That’s why you hate him.” Lo’ak snipped, his grin as wide as ever. “You hate that you like him.”

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @donaldsmac @littlethingsinlife @kainari144 @thesheelfsworld

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local-x-reader · 9 months

Note

Hello, how are you doing? Hopefully great.

If it's alright with you - and it's up to you to turn it down - Can i request platonic genshin impact HCs of Fem!reader?

Plot about Reader who if she had friends who's shorter then her or look younger, she immediately consider them her little siblings and try to take care/protect them because she's usually the oldest in her family and used to take care of others?

I have multiple characters to follow the same plot but if you only do a character per request then i want it to be Wanderer please and thank you!

I do infact do multiple characters~! So if you’d like to send in another ask with a few of the other characters, go right ahead Lovie! I picked Freminet as a little extra.

I can’t guarantee that either of them will be super in character since I’m still figuring them both out, and I’m not quite sure if this is what you meant as well!! I apologize if its not to your liking!

Being coddled. He hates it so much.

You seem to constantly be there. Scraped his knee? (Can he even scrape his knee? Wait hang on… Did not get an answer for that. I do not know: for the sake of it, yes.) You’re there, appearing out of seemingly nowhere, with a bandaid and a popsicle. Pushing it gently into his hands before putting the bandaid on.

He can’t even stop you, you just appear whenever he’s hurt.

The more annoying thing? That he’s finding himself to actually like the attention you give him, slowly getting less angry and oh man do your ears thank you, since he’s no longer yelling at you to leave him alone, he’s pouty but quiet, realizing he can’t stop you.

Now… the real issue is, when you start willingly throwing yourself into danger to protect him.

He’s fighting a few vermin, no major thing for him, swift bursts being thrown out until he’s knocked down, Mitachurl managing to take him by surprise, making you step in. All he can think is how stupid you are for doing such a thing! You don’t have a vision, Archons! He’s not even sure you even know how to wield a weapon!

He has to quickly push you away before you get yourself killed! A burst of anemo thrown at the Churl before it can actually harm you and your fragile body, although he’s not quite quick enough, leading to you getting a bit scuffed.

Its, for once, his turn to tend you…

“You idiot!” His voice is sharp, glare even sharper as you lie in the warmth of the bed, legs tucked beneath the cover while Wanderer rather roughly patches up your broken arm, glaring at your arm as if it has done great atrocities and broke on its own.

“Why did you do that?!” Wanderer hisses, his glare finally curving to meet your gaze, sharp as he gives a light squeeze to your arm, making you wince with pain as you falter to find words, mouth opening and closing as you look at him, before looking away, his tightened grip softening as he sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re an idiot, you don’t have a vision, I’m not even sure if you know how to use a weapon…. you could’ve gotten killed…” His voice, now softer, murmurs, quietly working to patch up the break, frowning as his glare softened slightly. He didn’t know why he found himself worried over you, why the thought of you dead bothered him so much. “Explain, explain your actions.”

“I… don’t know,” You shrugged, chest rising and falling with a soft sigh, eyes casting away, voice soft and filled will a small bit of fright… although he seemed to see right through that, his glare sharpening.

“Don’t. Lie. You know why, spit it out.”

“I just… don’t want to see you hurt…” You murmured, shrugging softly as you fiddled with your sleeve, looking away.

“Why?”

You remained quiet, lips locked shut. Gaze refusing to meet his, making him huff with annoyance, giving a tug to the bandages, making them tighten around your arm, sharply wincing before Wanderer gave a small move to untighten it, raising an eyebrow, “Why? I want answers.”

…

“I… I guess I view you as a little sibling…?”

That made Wanderer completely pause, confusion completely over taking his face as he attempted to register what you had just said meanwhile you refused to meet his gaze, looking down, grip tight on the blankets while he computed this strange new information he had received.

“You… view me as a little sibling?”

“Mhm… I don’t know… exactly why—“ Ep ep ep, that raised eyebrow. That stupid raised eyebrow and that look that said “you sure?” that stupid look you were so familiar with receiving from your siblings. “…Okay… maybe its ‘cause… ‘m the oldest in my family… ‘m supposed to care for my siblings… but they aren’t here… but… you just… remind me of them, remind me of my little siblings, even down to strange sibling communication looks…”

“Ah.”

…That was it?— You thought too soon, proceeding to get a light bonk on the head, a sharp glare from Wanderer, “Don’t do something dumb like that again, I can take care of myself just fine in battle!” He snapped, before his eyes softened slightly, looking away with an attempted “I don’t care” look, it made you smile, vaguely remembering that look from your little siblings. “Don’t do something dumb like that again, can’t aaalways be there to save my dumb sister.”

He isn’t sure… how to feel…

Freminet doesn’t tend to get himself into a lot of situations where he’s injured or in danger, the most danger he’s usually in is possibly drowning but he can breathe in the water, thanks to his vision. So really, the highest danger? Getting scraped by a rock, or ending up in a tight space… or attacked by one of the sea creatures— okay maybe there are more then a few things to be worried about…

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t value what you do… but he’s more worried its a waste when you put a little bandaid on his scrapes and scratches. They’ll come off… and the injuries don’t hurt too badly but you insist… and he can’t stop you, really…

He just quietly sits, patiently watching you patch him up, fidgeting with Pers while you apply cute bandaids to his arms, listening to your soft hums.

Now, he’s not usually one to get into fights… but for Pers safety? He’ll certainly try to defend the little clockwork penguin, his little companion managing to wander… straight… into a treasure hoarders camp…

He could’ve handled it fine on his own, he had a few moments where he faltered… and on one moment where he was convinced he was about to receive a shovel to his legs to knock him down? You came in, quick and taking a strong hit to your ankle, a small crack noise heard, making Freminet fight quicker as you fell to the ground, arms wrapping around Pers while Freminet fought.

Then, as swift as he could, he picked you and Pers up, running for it.

He was quiet, worry lacing his face as he quietly wrapped your ankle in a brace, frowning at it while you gently held his clockwork companion, watching it instead of Freminet. Oh he was trying to be so gentle, it was so clear with each movement, carefully wrapping it so it’d work but wouldn’t be too tight, worriedly looking at it for a moment, before his gaze landed on you.

“Why did you do that…?” His voice was soft, like gentle ocean waves, the worried look on his face gaining even more worry as he finished, able to look at you and Pers.

“I… the hoarder… was gonna hurt you…” You chirped, your voice matching his softness, the way he looked like a kicked puppy making you feel guilty, eyes focusing on Pers, the little penguins movements slowing as it settled down… “I couldn’t let you get hurt…”

“I would’ve been okay… I’ll heal…! You… really shouldn’t have taken that hit for me…” Freminet whispered again, voice wavering as he looked away, guilt lacing his own eyes. It was like someone yelling at a child for breaking into the candy jar, both of them looking guilty and refusing to meet any gazes but the floors.

“I’ll heal too.. I’ll be okay, Freminet… promise,” You murmured softly, still looking away.

The silence was deafening, the soft noises of Pers movements being the only noise in the silence… “Why… why did you… take the hit…?”

“I told you…—“

“I mean like… the actual reason… like why you’ve been talking care of me… every time I get hurt… is… you really shouldn’t be wasting so much for me… is there… some catch…?”

“Some catch..? No! No way! Never! There never be a catch for my little brothe—” You managed to catch yourself a little too late, wide eyes blinking at you from Freminet as Pers finally settled down on your lap while Freminet blinked at you several times, “What?”

….

“…There’d never be… a catch for my little brother…?” You gave such a nervous smile, while Freminet blinked even more, like a startled cat, trying to figure out if you had actually just said what escaped your lips, “Little… brother?”

“I’m… sorry if you’re not comfortable with that… I… I don’t know what causes me to view you as a little brother… maybe its just cause… I’m like… the oldest of my family… and you’re… I don’t know…” You chirped softly, folding the blanket a few times like a fan before letting it flop back into place, aware of Freminet’s wide eyes locked on you

“What???”

God the silence was back, louder then before, ironic saying it was silence but there was no noise, just soft inhales and exhales from the duo, not even the soft clicks of Pers.

“I just… feel inclined… to protect you… you… remind me of my siblings… in some ways… and… I don’t know… it makes me… just… want to protect you from harm… I guess…?”

“Oh…”

You decided not to carry on the conversation, shuffling carefully to lay down, putting Pers back on to the nightstand for Freminet to grab while you sidled back into bed, unaware of just how many emotions Freminet went through hearing that.

“Goodnight… uh… sister…?” He whispered softly, shuffling out the door and turning off the lights, leaving Pers under your protection, your eyes wide.

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hellogoodbye14 · 11 months

Text

Uncles teaching - One Shot (Rhysand, Feyre, Nyx, Cassian, Azriel and Nesta)

Been a minute! Hope you guys enjoy this cute little one shot. Involves a mischievous Nyx that Uncle Cass and Az have to deal with. A snarky Nesta and as per usual a wholesome feysand+nyx dynamic.

I know I have been away, dealing with getting healthy again. This story bursted out of me during recovery. Hoping to get back into it just like before ❤️. Once again, thanks for being here. All the love as always xx

“Alright buddy, you’re all strapped in. You ready?”

Nyx looked up into Cassians eyes and blew bubbles at him.

He snorted, “I’ll take that as a yes”.

He patted Nyx on his tummy, “Remember, no telling mommy about this yeah? And don’t tell your da either because he can’t keep a thing from her to save his life.”

Nyx looked up at him and squealed in excitement, “da…da..daa!”

Cassian sighed, “No buddy, he’ll be back from Spring Court soon but not today.”

He shook his finger, “ what I mean is no telling da da”.

Nyx frowned, Cassian sighed.

“This is what I get for trying to distract you from your dads absence the last three days huh?”

Nyx blew bubbles again but excitedly clapped and Cassian positioned the sled at the top of the stairs.

“Alright, taking off in 3…2…”

Cassian heard footfalls behind him.

“Cassian, what are you…”, he heard Azriels yell fall in the distance as he pitched the sled forward.

Cassian let out a whoop and Nyx squealed with laughter. Each time Cassian turned the sled in the corners, Nyx would happily throw his hands up and laugh at the jerking motion.

The House of Wind had plenty of stairs and Cassian was glad to share this with Nyx.

As soon as the sled came to a stop, Cassian pushed back some strands of his hair which came loose. Nyx was clapping and yelled, “Azzy”.

Cassian looked up to find Azriel standing with his arms crossed.

“Uh-oh, Shit.”

“Sheet”, Nyx mimicked.

“No, buddy you can’t say shit.”

“Sheet”

Cassian sighed.

“Feyre is going to kill you”, said Azriel.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Azzy, Azzzy, Azzy!”, Nyx tried getting out.

Azriel smiled at the little troublemaker and picked him up.

“Hey buddy, less moody today?”

Nyx smiled, “Da..da?”. It was clear to Azriel that Nyx was asking a question.

He sighed, “Not yet buddy, but he’ll be here soon.”

Nyx frowned again and then a bubbling sound escaped.

Cassian laughed as Azriel groaned.

“He farted on me again, I swear he does it on purpose.”

Azriel shook his head at his nephew and pulled out a candy, “Here. To cheer you up. Don’t tell your mom okay?”

Nyx’s eyes twinkled and he sucked on the lolly Azriel gave him.

Azriel and Cassian took to the skies few moments later to land at Feyre and Rhys’s estate house.

“Honey, I’m home!”, Cassian yelled out knowing Nesta was around somewhere. And yes, there she was reading a book and randomly waving her hand not looking away from the book.

“I feel so loved”, he sighed dramatically.

“Don’t distract me, the enemies finally kissed so we’re turning to the lovers bit now.”

Cassian frowned, “Is this another one of those tropes?”

“It’s the enemies to lovers trope, you idiot”, said Azriel.

Cassian slowly turned towards his brother in arms, even Nesta kept her book down, arching a brow.

A bit of pink appeared on his cheeks as he cuddled Nyx closer.

“Umm, Gwyn mentioned something about it.”

Feyre snickered from behind, “Interesting development, Shadowsinger. It’s cute to see you blush.”

“I don’t blush”, said Azriel as he blushed harder.

“Ma..ma..ma..”, Nyx instantly reached out to Feyre and she peppered him with kisses.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did you have fun with uncle Cassian reading some nursery rhymes?”

Azriel coughed, “Nursery rhymes?”

Cassian shoved Azriel.

“Yeah, yeah. I told Feyre I’d look after Nyx for a bit. Play some completely safe games and read him some nursery rhymes.”

“Safe games huh?”, Azriel asked.

Cassian clenched his teeth.

“Yes, safe.”

Feyre frowned at them while Nyx played with her hair.

“You guys are acting weird but I’m assuming you’re hugry. Dinners ready, thought we could have it at the backyard since the weather is pleasant.”

“I’m famished gorgeous, thank you”, said Cassian pecking a kiss on Feyres cheek.

Azriel shuffled Nyx’s hair and kissed Feyre’s forehead in thanks.

“Oh cauldron! Theres only one bed!”, yelled Nesta.

Feyre snickered, “another trope huh?”

Nesta sighed, “I love this book.”

“Any spicy scenes?”

Nesta smirked, “Yeap. Are you going to share them with Rhys again?”

Feyre blushed, “most likely.”

Nesta snickered as she kept her book away and went with Feyre to the backyard.

Everyone laughed, and joked as they had their dinner but Nyx kept looking into the distance towards the forest line close to the garden.

Feyre lifted his cheek, “You okay buddy?”

Nyx pointed to a spot, “da..da..da.”

Feyre sighed, “Sweety, I know you miss him but he won’t be back for another two days.”

Nyx shook his head and kept staring at the same spot.

“That boy misses him like hell”, said Nesta as she dug into her dessert.

Feyre nodded, “It’s been hard on Rhys too. I kept telling him it’s only four days but he said it felt like a lifetime being away. It’s been hard for him not to winnow back and forth just to see Nyx but there’s nothing that can be done.”

“Is Tamlin not being a bit too paranoid? Like he made an enchantress use wyrd marks to make sure no one could winnow.”

Azriel shrugged, “Lucien said he doesn’t trust anyone, not even people in his own court. He’s taking extra precautions as peace talks happen.”

Nesta picked her nails, “Tarquin and Helion went too, surely it’ll be all civil.”

Cassian snorted, “Tarquin is diplomatic, Helion is… not.”

Nyx suddenly jumped in Feyre’s lap, pointing to the same spot again.

“Da….da..da!”, he yelled excitedly.

Feyre turned to look but the spot was still empty.

She frowned but just as she was about to comfort her son, a cloud of black smoke erupted in the same spot Nyx kept pointing at.

As the smoke cleared, she saw Rhys standing there with a smile on his face.

Her heart soared and she wanted to leap at him. She would have done just that had she not felt a moment of instant panic when the weight of her son disappeared from her arms.

She frowned at the empty spot and looked around, Rhys’s eye widened too that was until Nyx winnowed himself right into Rhys’s arms.

Rhys caught him with an oomph.

“Da..da..da”, Nyx laughed as Rhys hugged him close.

“Ah, you’ve grown way too much already bud. Let me look at you.”

Rhys held Nyx away from him and smiled, his eyes bright. He threw Nyx up high and caught him as Nyx squealed.

“He can winnow?”, Cassian exclaimed.

“Apparently he can”, Feyre sighed. Great, just what she needed. A toddler who could winnow.

Nyx was babbling gibberish as if telling Rhys all about his day. Rhys smiled and nodded as if he understood everything.

He pecked Nyx on the nose.

“Alright, tell me the rest later. I need to kiss your mom.”

Nyx blew bubbles at him and Feyre laughed as she got up to meet Rhys.

“Honey, I’m home.”

She hugged him close with Nyx secure between them. Palming the side of his face and kissing him.

She rested her forehead against his and rubbed her thumb on his cheek.

“Missed you”, she smiled up at him.

“Missed you more.”

Cassian looked at his mate and pointed at the couple, “See! That. That is what I’m talking about.”

His mate just flipped him the finger.

Everyone settled down at their seats, Nyx stayed in his fathers arms and rested his head on Rhys’s shoulder.

“So what did you guys get up to?”, asked Rhys after briefing everyone on the meeting at Spring.

“Apparently, Cassian read Nyx some nursery rhymes”, Azriel snickered.

Rhys smiled, “which one?”

Cassian glared at Azriel, “Oh, umm you know the popular one.”

Azriel smiled into his glass and said, “yeah? Sing it for us. Maybe Nyx will join in since he learned it today.”

Everyone stared at him waiting.

He coughed, “Ba Ba Brown sheep”

Azriel interrupted, “Black.”

Cassian continued, “Have you any pull.”

“Wool.”

“Yes sir, Yes sir, six bags full.”

“Three bags”

“One for my muppet”

“Master”

“ and one for the fame”

“Dame”

“And one for the little girl who lived down the lane.”

“Little boy”

Cassian glared at Azriel, “What are you? The Nursery rhyme police?!”

Everyone laughed at the back and forth. Nyx looked at Azriel and let out a hand.

“Canyy cand”.

Azriel froze.

“What is that sweety?”, Feyre asked.

Cassian smirked, “oh are you asking for candy Nyx? Huh.. interesting. Why is he asking you for Candy Az?”

“Umm, I don’t know.”

Nyx smiled, asking again.

Rhys sighed, “You gave him candy before dinner didn’t you?”

“Azriel”, Feyre sighed.

“No wonder he’s been so hyper all day!”

Azriel offered a meek look, well as meek as he could.

“Look, he was sad okay? And I wanted to cheer him up. It was just a couple.”

“How much is a couple?”, asked Nesta.

“Two… okay no that’s a lie.. three.”

Feyre glared.

“Okay fine, it was five! But you know what? At least I didn’t take him sledding down the house of wind stairs, Cass did!”

Feyre gasped.

Rhys let out a slow whistle, “She’s going to kill you.”

“Cass, do you not have self preservation?”, asked Nesta.

“YOU TOOK MY TODDLER CHILD DOWN THOSE STAIRS.”

Cassian slowly backed away, “It was completely safe! I had him packed up and he enjoyed it so much. I even have a picture.”

Feyre’s nostrils flared.

“Uh-oh”, Cassian let out a nervous laugh.

Nyx learning that new word just today of course said, “Sheet”.

Feyre’s eyes widened.

“Sweety, who taught you that word.”

Cassian was already getting off his ass when his traitorous nephew pointed a finger at him.

“Yeah, you run bat boy. You run.”

Soon a pair of water wolves were chasing down Cassian around the estate.

“Feyre stop, I SAID I WAS SORRY.”

“Sorry ain’t good enough!”

“Rhys, Ness, MAKE HER STOP.”

Nesta smiled, “Oh, but I’m enjoying this too much ‘honey’”

“CAULDRON, when did she give them wings?!”

Rhys smiled as a sleepy Nyx cuddled into his arms, “It’s good to be back home.”

Taglist: @meher-sumedha

@sv0430

@highladysith

@imakeangelscry

@whoreforgwynriel

@booksandlibrarys

@cretaceous-therapod

@story-scribbler

@kneelingsince2012

@whenyadoesntcutit

@allthebooksunderthemoon

@argumtumstella

#acomaf #acotar #acosf #acowar #feyre #rhysand #feysand #azriel #cassian #nesta #nessian #nyx #oneshot

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neonoddeye · 1 year

Text

Carried away | Zoro x Reader One Shot

As I write this, I’m on episode 239 of One Piece, but I could not resist writing something for my new husband. I absolutely freaking adore the characters in this show and will most likey write more for them in the future :)

Contents: swearing, very light violence (like, kicking and stuff), soooo fluffy as usual, gn! reader

For the first time in days, the straw hats finally reach solid ground; you almost jumped up and down with Luffy once your eccentric captain announced it to the ship. The sight of shops and adventures waiting to be uncovered is almost staggering, even though it’s a feeling you’ve been overcome with many times before. You’re snapped out of the daydream as you see Zoro throwing over the enormous anchor with incredulous ease, his figure glistening in the afternoon sun. He puts you in an indescribable trance, one that could easily overpower your prowess if you weren’t on the same crew as him. He turns to you after safely lowering the anchor and gives a small nod; as soon as you turn away, cheeks flush with embarrassment, Nami smacks you on cue.

“Don’t you get carried away by that idiot, y/n!” She scream-whispers to you. “You can do better than that, you know!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you sigh. “I’ve tried, trust me. I just… I still want to get closer to him.”

“Well, have you made the effort?” Nami crosses her arms, giving you a playful smirk.

“I- guess I could.”

The crew begins gathering belongings for their adventure, with Luffy and Usopp already chasing each other down the pier you docked on.

Alright, fine, today’s the day. I can’t play this game with Zoro forever.

The two of you have been good friends since you joined the crew not too long ago, and it didn’t take you long to fall for the swordsman. Unfortunately, Zoro is reserved, and you’ve long tried to bury your feelings for him, save your venting to Nami and Robin from time to time. Yet, the small, almost unnecessary touches he gives you, and how worried he gets over you when you’re wounded make it difficult to keep your feelings away. For maybe, just maybe, the stubborn man could fall for you.

“Hey, Zoro” you approach him apprehensively as he begins to walk off the ship. “You got any plans today?”

“No, not really, just walkin’ around I suppose. Why?”

“Oh! I uhh… me neither.” You’re already sweating under his sharp gaze, per usual. “Do you want to uh… maybe go with me? I have nothing to do in particular.” You trail off at the last part, trying hard to not lose confidence.

“Sure, why not.” He cocks his head towards the exit, jumping off briskly. “Come down when you’re ready!” He yells back up to you.

Your body moves on instinct, swinging over and jumping off the ship as always. What was not in the plan was your shoe getting stuck on a loose nail sticking out of the ship, making you trip and fall over the ship much less gracefully. You scramble for a bit before two strong arms secure your fall, gently lowering you to your feet and patting you on the small of your back. His hand lingers for a bit before he walks around you to check for any damage.

“Tch, Franky’s gotta fix shit like that,” Zoro retorts. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for catching me,” you reply. “Swear I’ve never done that before, that was lame!”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I know you’re better than that.” He follows with a small, ambiguous wink.

The hell is up with this man?

After some silence, the two of you find a row of shops with a sea of tourists gliding between them. It’s a wondrous sight to take in for the both of you.

Your eyes find a stand with a small arsenal of weapons, and Zoro catches you mentally recalling how much money you have to spend.“I’m gonna go over there first” Zoro points to a shop near the back of the marketplace, beyond the daunting wave of shoppers. “You can go over there, if you’d like.”

The two of you part ways for a bit, and you walk towards the arsenal to do some window shopping. Unfortunately, nothing seems to be of your liking, and you briskly thank the shopkeeper before turning to head over to Zoro.

Oh no, I let the airhead go off on his own, you curse yourself internally. After a quick first glance, he’s nowhere to be found in the crowd. Swiftly, you navigate the ocean of people and, after making a few educated guesses in turns, immediately spot the swordsman loitering about the street.

“There you are,” you say with an exhale. “Lost you for a sec.”

“Didn’t find what you needed?”

“Nah, nothing good. How the hell did you get over here?”

He shrugs his shoulders, giving you a small chuckle. “You’re a dumbass,” you reply playfully. Then, after gathering all of the courage you could possibly muster, you walk up to him and gingerly grab his wrist.

“I should stick with you, then. Hate to break it to ya, but you’re not really good at the whole ‘directions’ thing.”

His gaze softens with yours as he slides his hand into yours, interlocking it like he’s putting in the last piece of a puzzle. Your heart is threatening to pounce out of your chest, and by the way his ears turn the slightest shade of red, his is as well.

“Whatever you say.” He begins sauntering over to what you can make out is a sword care stand, pulling you alongside him by your hand. Which, you can notice, is already sweaty.

You follow Zoro to a sword care shop, watching his eyes graze every item with care. You’re not a swordsman yourself, but thankfully your mind is hardwired on the hand intertwined in his, taking note of every twitch and movement felt. To know you had a bit of a grip on such an unattainable man made you feel invincible in the moment.

And, fortunately, that invincibility was needed, as a figure slides across your peripheral vision and between you and Zoro, severing your sacred union to him. Your eyes dart to zoro, who is patting his clothing wildly. “Damn them, they took my fucking wallet!” He says between gritted teeth, already reaching for his swords. But before he can make any further moves, you stop him with an outstretched arm. “Let me get this one,” you say quietly to him before pouncing in the direction of the thief.

In one fell swoop, you kick the lousy criminal to the ground, jutting your foot into their neck and standing above them like an animal before prey.

“Think you stole from the wrong crew,” you spit, before reading down and plucking Zoro’s wallet from the thief, giving them one last kick to the groin for good measure. “Get lost.”

The thief scrambles to their feet and scurries into a nearby alleyway, and you turn back to meet Zoro with your head held high.

“Easy enough,” you smile at him, handing Zoro’s wallet to him. He takes back his belongings, then replaces the wallet with your hand, reuniting you to him once again. He then, much to your surprise, pulls you by the arm towards him, close enough to where you can hear his heartbeat drumming on his chest like a timpani. Your wide eyes meet his, and he gives you a small, but lingering, kiss on the forehead. “That was kinda hot, y/n. You should do that more sometime.”

“Well, I’d rather you not get your wallet stolen again,” you tease him, bringing your free hand up to caress his toned arm and taking in the warmth you longed for.

“Idiot. Wanna get lunch somewhere?”

“Like, a date?” You say, a huge grin forming on your face.

“Sure, let’s call it that.”

#ronoroa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro fluff #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #anime #loopdelta

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beanghostprincess · 7 months

Note

Shuggy headcanons as per request Madame: Love me some „Shanks being in love with Buggy’s long hair“, but I raise you „Buggy absolutely adores Shanks hair and can’t keep his hands out of it“. Granted, Shanks doesn’t really take care of his hair. Shanks is a bit of a greaseball at times. Suits Buggy well actually. When they were teens that gave him a perfect reason to just be „Eugh! When was the last time you washed this?“ While grabbing a fist full „OW! My hairs fine! I washed it last week!“ „LAST WEEK? GOD YOURE GROSS!“ and nag him about it till he cleaned up. He could always pretend the detached hands that raked trough Shanks hair after this where just there to make sure his idiot best friend did a good enough job. Actually he needs to check up on this every so often because clearly Shanks can’t be trusted to look after his own head and Buggy would be DAMNED if this ginger brought lice into their bunk HOLD STILL. The rituals…Elaborate but stupid as hell.

Shanks doesn’t mind as much as he pretends, as long as Buggy isn’t pulling his head this way and that by its roots, and enjoys the little bit of extra attention when Buggys fingers scratch over his scalp. On quieter days when they are hanging out together Buggy will actually relax enough to play with his hair without the guise of checking for dandruff for once and just absentmindedly chop a hand of to run his fingers trough while he is reading or even just bitching about something unrelated. Shanks just turns to mush every time this happens. Complete zen mode achieved.

In a world where they get together as adults again those moments become a bit more regular, usually when they are in bed together and they are both still in the process of waking up. „Feels nice…You got a real thing for my hair huh?“ Buggy shoots him an unimpressed look and Shanks can’t help but roll his eyes fondly as he answers: „I’m just checking something. I think it’s thinning out. If you keep going at this rate you’re gonna go bald.“.

As I said, the rituals : intricate but stupid as FUCK

So cute and sweet and also a bit angsty because just add the PINING to it,,, They make me go wild. Like, it's noticeable how I've been talking more about Shuggy lately and things like this make me go fucking insane. They were so in love. Gonna jump off a bridge. Anyway!

This is so real. Because Buggy would always complain about Shanks not washing his hair properly (even if one day he does have an immaculate, perfect hair) only to have the excuse to touch it or just be closer to Shanks without actually looking like a needy, pining idiot (does he even realize he's in love with Shanks? He will never admit it). And, y'know, I think Shanks genuinely ends up trying to take care of his hair (more or less. He just doesn't care much and forgets about doing it. Like yeah! Gonna be clean from now on! And then a week passes and he hasn't showered because he's been too busy with adventure to worry about it, or something) because he kind of likes the praise that comes with it afterward. Buggy saying something nice to him doesn't happen often, and he cherishes it forever. But it doesn't happen a lot bc he always ends up forgetting to wash his hair.

I'm a sucker for Shuggy being each other's first kisses, and if it happens while Buggy is playing with Shanks hair,, I might die. They're just too much.

Also, when they're older Shanks still doesn't take care of his hair and Buggy literally drags him to the shower with him. Shanks won't stop making sexual jokes about showering together and Buggy literally and genuinely just wants to clean Shanks as if he were a damn stray dog he just found (kind of the same thing tbh). Then Buggy makes him go back to bed with him and cuddle because he just needs a moment of romantic bliss before fighting his husband again.

#god they're something else #no other ship makes me feel like this it's so akjsdbajksbda #i'm a child of divorce please #they're in love your honor #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #shuugy

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nompunhere · 2 years

Text

Bug Bites 3 (H/ollow K/night Vore Ficlets)

so they're finally here! performing for you! if you know the words, you can join in too- ahem. it's Bug Bites 3, seven months after the last set was posted and about a year after I wrote the first outline for this one! wooooooo

Bug Bites 1, Bug Bites 2

As per usual, all of these ficlets involve Safe, Soft Vore, varying degrees of H/ollow K/night Spoilers, and then some varying size differences and stuff. Most of these have T/iso. I’m not sorry. He keeps crashing on the couch of my brain and refuses to pay rent

Characters, word counts, and specific notes will be at the start of each ficlet. Enjoy!

Stories below the cut

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Chipped

Characters: Lemm, Quirrel Word Count: 980 Warnings/Notes: G/t, Quirrel is shrunk using the magic mask I still haven’t fully elaborated on. Repeats a bit of the same world-building I put in my fic Comfort Between Friends. Oh and there’s like 2-3 swears, all in the same sentence

——————————————

Chip. Chip. Chip.

Lemm wedged the tool carefully under a flake of… residue and struck it just hard enough to break the brown matter away from the surface of the King’s Idol. He grumbled at the amount of work he still had to do to get the thing cleaned up. Where had the little wanderer found this thing, the sewers? Knowing them, they probably had. He just hoped whatever details could be gleaned from this one were worth the effort.

He’d done his best to wipe it off, using his finest cleaner that wouldn’t damage the metal of the idol, but some of the dirt on it was so old it’d practically hardened into rock. The next bit just would not come off no matter how much he tried to dig the chisel into it. There was simply no point of leverage to be found. Overcome with frustration, he set the tool in the dead center of the chunk and gave it a good hard ‘thwhack!’

Bits of dust were shaken free, but the chunk was still solidly on there. He moved the tool away to glare at it, revealing a crack running down the center of the spot, a darker silver metal glinting through. The relic seeker squinted and leaned in for a better look. Wait… That brown bit was a decal, not dirt! Who in Wyrm’s name would have their King’s Idol personalized to look like it had dung on it?!

With an angry huff, he turned the idol over to look for a name, ignoring the small shifts in his middle that resulted from the abrupt movement. He wanted to know what long-dead fool he should be cursing right about now. After a minute of searching, he found it.

To the most loyal of the Five, Ogrim the Defender.

That.. sounded familiar actually. The Five? As in, the Five Great Knights? There wasn’t much information still intact about them, and even less on Ogrim in particular. He wasn’t the most well-liked of the Five, though the reports were still generally positive. From what he could glean, based on the few facts that his sources (wanderer’s journals, preserved letters, sparse visual depictions, and the inane ramblings of whatever explorers and graverobbers managed to crawl out of the waterways alive and stumble into his shop) could agree upon, Loyal Ogrim was friendly, devoted to his king and fellow knights, particularly fond of Kindly Isma, fought without a weapon, and was.. a… dung beetle?

Lemm set the idol and his tools aside to bury his face in his hands with a groan. Of course it would belong to a dung beetle. But more than that, it belonged to one of the Five. It was probably the most valuable King’s Idol he’d ever get his hands on! And he cracked it!

“Gods fucking dammit, I’m a fucking idiot,” he lamented.

The movements in his belly picked up again, this time moving to the back wall to begin a gentle massage. “Shhhhhh,” came a quiet voice, muffled through layers of flesh and drowsiness, “it’s alright love, you’re not an idiot. Everything’s okay. Shhhhhhhh…”

Lemm choked. “Wha- don’t shush me?!”

The little rascal just kept shushing, trying not to giggle. He rubbed deeper into the wall, pressing into the points that never failed to make a bug relax, when treated just right. As expected, his ministrations caused Lemm to sink into his seat with a heavy sigh.

“Hmph… Thanks, Quirrel,” he muttered. The miniature pillbug in question simply laughed and continued massaging the walls. “You’re really enjoying yourself in there, aren’t you?”

“What can I say? I love making you happy,” the scholar replied. “And I can’t deny that your stomach is very comfortable. One of the softest I’ve been in, to be sure,” he added.

“How many’ve you been in?” Lemm closed his eyes, allowing the conversation to flow as an excuse to take a break from his work.

“Mm, hard to say. Not many recently, but I used to get around quite a bit in my younger days.”

“That many bugs were willing to eat you, huh? And you let them?”

“Well, it can be a rather pleasant experience, with the right bug. I enjoyed it at the time.”

“Still do, apparently.”

Quirrel chuckled. “You certainly wouldn’t be wrong there.” He relaxed into the wall and traced the folds for a minute. “...You know, I could show you what it’s like from this side of things at some point, if you’d like,” he murmured, sounding positively blissful.

Lemm grunted in acknowledgement, then stopped to process what the pillbug had actually said. “Wait, what? How?”

The scholar yawned and rolled onto his back, folding his hands over his middle. “I do believe the Madam left a shrinking spell or two lying about the Archives somewhere. They, among other spells, were intended to deter and help capture intruders, but if staff members or trusted guests tripped them, they played more the role of a harmless prank.” He nestled further into the folds, slowly losing the battle against sleep. “‘M not a master spellweaver, but I’m familiar enough with the Madam’s work to, ah, make a few modifications. Either way, it won’t kill you or anything. One version just stings a little, is all. And it’s trickier to undo. But I know how to make it into the safer version, so don’t.. worry…”

Lemm waited a second for Quirrel to continue, and when he didn’t, the rain beetle chuffed and patted at his partner’s tucked away form. “Aye, I’m sure you could. Maybe sometime. …Goodnight, Quirrel.”

“‘Night,” the smaller bug replied, his voice almost entirely inaudible.

The relic seeker simply sat there, savoring the moment for a while before returning to his work. It really was cute how much Quirrel loved it in there. Perhaps seeing the other perspective would be worth a shot.

************************************

Stealth Nap

Characters: Tiso, Quirrel, Lemm Word Count: 1,380 Warnings/Notes: Takes place in the Giants of Hallownest AU, aka my flimsy excuse for more G/t. As you can probably imagine, the vore is G/t. Also involves Unaware Vore. and like one minor swear. (headcanon that Tiso moves a lot in his sleep and is also a sleep-hugger, go!)

——————————————

Dirtmouth was windy that evening. Tiso didn’t like it. The wind of the Wastes that made it across Hallownest’s borders had been of a perfectly tolerable temperature for the past several centuries, but the weather had finally started to change again since the end of the stasis. It was getting colder, and Tiso hadn’t insulated his new house. He could work on that tomorrow, but for right now, he needed to find a warm place to sleep for the night. Fortunately, he knew just the bug to ask. Unfortunately, that bug wasn’t home. Fortunately, he had said where he was going. …Unfortunately, it was quite a ways off. Especially for someone who was the size of the average native Hallownest bug’s finger. Damn kingdom of giants.

Pushing open the drawer he had claimed as his apartment was simple enough for the ant, as was climbing down from Quirrel’s dresser. Walking to the door was also fine, though he had to wrap his arms around himself to suppress a shiver. He approached the hole carved into the bottom corner of the door for him, pulled the wad of fabric that was wedged there to block the draft out of place, and put it back as he left. No one was outside to witness him sprinting to the Stag Station, most bugs having turned in early due to the weather. He didn’t blame them; he’d do the same if he could.

As much as he loathed relying on that old service beast, taking the Stag was really the only way to get down to the City of Tears within the next few hours. With a sigh, Tiso entered the building, rode the short elevator down (trying not to flinch at the way it jolted his small form), and made his way to the bell. …Yeah, he wasn’t gonna be able to hit that with his shield from here. Rolling his eyes, he looped the armament around the pole so the strap was braced against the metal, grabbed both sides, and set to climbing. The setae on his feet helped with traction, but it still took a few minutes to get to the top.

Once there, the warrior took a deep breath, braced himself, and rammed his shield into the bell. The resulting sound resonated through his form, leaving his head ringing and body shaking. To a Hallownest native, it was probably more of a light ‘tink!’ Whatever, it didn’t matter. So long as it got the job done. Soon enough, the telltale rumbling of the approaching Stag filled the room. He clung to the top of the bell pole and resigned himself to the incoming humiliation of asking for help.

——————————————

A few excruciating minutes of clinging for dear life to the Stag’s horn and a long climb down a few levels of a City building later, Tiso was stumbling through the him-sized doorway positioned next to the main door of the relic shop. He followed the walkway to the back, uncertain if it came with the shop to provide accessibility to foreigners, or if the relic seeker had had to build it himself. He couldn’t tell, and honestly couldn’t care less. He was cold and tired. The miniature door into the back rooms, thankfully, wasn’t locked.

He continued along the walkway past shelves and shelves of old junk—sorry, relics—until he was positioned over the couch in Lemm’s personal rooms. He looked down to see a massive, rounded shape resting on the giant piece of furniture, softly snoring. Bingo.

The owner of the place was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t matter. He was probably just asleep in the bedroom. Honestly, Tiso had no clue why Lemm didn’t just let Quirrel sleep in the bed. It’s not like that tiny rain beetle could use it. He was pretty sure the relic seeker had his own, smaller bed atop the nightstand, from what he remembered of his few visits here.

The ant hopped down onto the back cushions, stopped to catch his breath, and slid down to land gently on the sleeping pillbug’s belly. He paused. …No movement, except slow breaths carrying his tiny form up and down. Okay, Quirrel was still asleep, good. He slowly crept up his friend’s chest. The larger bug’s mask was off, perfect; he must’ve removed it for sleep. His mandibles were slightly parted as well—even better.

Tiso hooked his shield over the back of his armor and tentatively eased a hand into Quirrel’s mouth. So far, so good. He used his other hand to push the mandibles further apart, just enough to get his head and shoulders in. As he crawled over his friend’s labium and onto the tongue, the mandibles drifted shut, clicking against his sides and softly scraping at his chitin as he moved past them.

A small grunt sounded around him in response to his weight on the tongue. The ant froze. Quirrel shifted in his sleep, his tongue pressing Tiso against the roof of his mouth to drag him in the rest of the way, maw closing around the little warrior. It settled after a moment, leaving him lying still and tense. Another few seconds passed before he dared inch closer to the throat. Just had to get the pillbug to swallow him, and he’d be in the clear.

Staring down into the pitch dark tunnel, the warrior steeled himself before plunging his hand into the soft, damp tube. It passed over the entrance to the—what was it, the trachea?—the thing that took in air for talking, and into the top of the esophagus. Poke the right spot and it’d open, simple as that. He began to press his fingers into the flesh, searching for the point that would trigger a swallow.

He managed to elicit two small gag reflexes for his efforts before finally reaching deep enough to get what he was after. The throat opened wide enough to accept his minute frame as the tongue pushed him forward and down. With one subconscious gulp, he was gone, disappearing entirely into Quirrel’s body. Exactly the result he’d hoped for. He relaxed, allowing the waves of muscle to carry him to his destination.

Released into the humid, plush chamber hidden in his friend’s core, the ant slid down the curved walls to rest in the pit of the larger bug’s stomach. He stretched out, content—only for his foot to brush against something solid. He flinched away.

Sitting up, Tiso leaned forward to squint into the darkness. He couldn’t see much of anything, maybe a dark blob against the surrounding blue at most. But if he listened closely…

Breathing and heartbeat, echoing all around him. The sound of snoring from above quietly rumbling through the space at regular intervals. Gurgles, grumbles, bubbles, and other sounds he didn’t care to think too deeply about from further along the digestive tract. And finally, by focusing intently on the spot just in front of him, Tiso could make out a second, smaller rhythm of snores, barely audible through the din.

Welp. Guess that answered where Lemm was.

The warrior scooted away, careful not to make any sudden movements. He curled up in the corner (or whatever would constitute such in a mostly-rounded space), hoping that his chosen spot was far enough away to avoid kicking the grumpy hermit in his sleep. Either way, he’d have to face the consequences of his actions eventually. He couldn’t exactly back out now. Besides, he’d put way too much effort into simply getting here to do so, even if it were possible.

Tiso nestled into the cushiony folds and quickly drifted off. Come morning, he’d wake to Lemm’s voice demanding to know why Quirrel had let the ant in here, along with the feeling of small hands carefully extricating him from where he’d apparently buried his face into the soaked fur of the relic seeker’s ruff, his arms clinging to the other bug like a stuffed mosscreep. He’d groggily blink in confusion before scrambling away, thoroughly embarrassed, denying any involvement and shouting at Quirrel for laughing.

But he had no way of knowing that yet. For now, he would simply reap the rewards of his journey, sleeping away his exhaustion in the warmth of his friend’s belly. It was worth it.

************************************

Waiting

Characters: Tiso, Ghost (Hornet and Quirrel mentioned) Word Count: 941 Warnings/Notes: G/t again. Implied TATG AU, and also vaguely implied to be post-EtV ending. Really nothing to warn for here. At least Tiso gets to be a pred again (in case it isn’t clear, the game he’s playing is Cat’s Cradle). and he has inconsistent dialogue here bc I was sorta flipping between his canon and fanon speech patterns, rip

——————————————

Okay okay okay, two loops on each wrist, and one on each forefinger, right? …Or was it middle finger? Wait, that thread was supposed to be in front. Did it matter? Tiso huffed and took the silk string off his hands to start over. That Weaver game Hornet showed him sure did pass the time, he’d give her that. Or it would if he could get the dang first figure right!

Before looping the thread over his hands to try again, he rested his hands in his lap to glance over at Ghost, perched on the arm of the couch, across from where he lay slouched on the other end. The little wanderer had just been pacing for several minutes before swapping out their regular shell for their tiny one and hopping up to their current location to wait. For what, he wasn’t sure, but clearly they were excited about it, if the fact that they were practically vibrating in place was any indication. He had an idea, but might as well ask.

“You waiting for Quirrel, Squib?” They turned and quickly nodded before going back to their previous position. Ah. Yeah, that made sense. He’d gone out earlier for a walk by himself to collect samples from Greenpath or whatever. Something about wanting to test the chemical properties of gulka venom. Tiso wasn’t sure what that meant, but whatever kept the scholar happy, he guessed. He vaguely recalled Quirrel saying he’d be back by dinnertime, but he’d probably want a “snack” if he returned sooner. …That was probably the part they were excited about, now that he thought about it.

“You know it’s probably gonna be at least a few hours ‘til he’s back, right? He always takes ages on trips like this, looking at every little thing. He’s likely staring at some vines right now, entranced by their.. greeness. Or enjoying a serene view, ugh. If he weren’t such a good fighter, I’d have no interest in him whatsoever.” The pale thing glared at him for a minute. What? Was he wrong?

The two held their staring contest until Ghost looked away and sighed, head drooping. Tiso silently began to loop the silk back over his hands, but stopped, thinking. Looked up at Ghost again where they sat, dejected. He didn’t mean to burst their bubble. And he hadn’t minded their excitement, either. It was almost cute, honestly. But he ruined that. Luckily, he had an idea for how to fix it.

He gathered up the string and set it aside, then clacked his mandibles to get the squib’s attention. They glanced over at him. The ant pointed meaningfully at his middle. They tilted their head. He rolled his eyes, pointed at them, and pointed at his belly again, tilting his head as well. An offer. This time, they seemed to get it, immediately perking up and bouncing over.

He snorted as they eagerly crawled up his chest. “Guess you weren’t really waiting for Quirrel, huh? Just the opportunity to get-” They put a hand over his mouth as they laughed in their own, soundless way. Shaking their head, they leaned against his mouth, requesting entry. “E’ll feel so b’trayed wh’n ‘e g’ts back,” he mumbled into the side of their face. Ghost lightly smacked at him.

The two friends chuckled to themselves, and after another moment, Tiso opened his mouth, letting the tiny vessel fall partway onto his tongue. They wriggled the rest of the way in on their own without hesitation and started to pat around. He obligingly gave them a few licks, having a little fun with them. They seemed happier for it, at least.

A bit of play, and Ghost was ready to slide down his throat. Which they did. It went much more smoothly than the ant expected, probably thanks to slicking them up for the trip, first. They wriggled intermittently on the way down, making the warrior rub at his chest to get the odd feeling to go away.

Upon reaching their destination, the tiny wanderer started to bounce around, having a good time and making themself at home in Tiso’s stomach. He snickered at their enthusiasm. “Having fun, little traitor?” Stumbling over to the nearest wall, they gave it a hard tap. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he’d take it as a yes. “Okay, okay! Just don’t go too crazy in there, alright?”

He gave them a pat or two as they cozied up to the warmth inside. That done, he finally went back to his game. Deepling’s Hammock, or whatever it was called. Mrgh, still as frustrating. He continued to struggle with the thread for a few minutes, until Ghost began to settle down and curl up for a nap. They had been pretty good in there so far; he might as well give them the courtesy of being quiet while they slept.

With the effort of keeping himself from getting too aggravated at the uncooperative string, the ant had to work slower. By going at it with a calmer mind, he was able to puzzle out how to get the loops where he wanted them to go. Maybe the tiny, breathing weight in his belly helped keep him centered. Either way, he was eventually able to get through three different figures—a new record, even counting the times he had Hornet’s help! He spread his hands in front of him to look at his accomplishment: a relatively neat-looking web, looped over all eight fingers. He should show her his progress…

But for now, he was starting to feel a bit drowsy himself. Maybe he’d join Ghost in their nap.

************************************

Nightmare

Characters: Tiso, Oro Word Count: 1,551 Warnings/Notes: Flashbacks, Past Major Character Injury, Blood Mention, Pain. The worst of it can be avoided by skipping the italicized section at the start. This one’s got some ~angst~ (followed by comfort). The vore is Half-Size, and also Tiso’s third time ever being nommed in this timeline

——————————————

The crowd cheered on, chanting his name, sending the hemolymph coursing under his shell. It filled him with the will, no, the need to FIGHT. He soaked it all in, taking a breath before the next challenge came his way, listening for the sound of the cages that held his opponents. Instead, what he heard was a particular shout from the crowd.

“Look up, dumbass!”

Too late.

The cheering changed to laughing as all his senses were overcome with pain. Crushing overwhelming PAIN. He couldn’t breathe, they were laughing, jeering, taunting, no one would come to help, please, he couldn’t breathe, it hurt, it burned like red flame, sparks flashed across his vision, he could see his own blood spreading over the floor, PLEASE-

And then he could breathe.

And he was falling.

And then-

Nothing.

Tiso bolted upright, instinctively slamming a hand over his mouth to smother a scream. What came out was more of a wheeze instead, only a tiny hint of a whine getting through his vocal cords. That out of the way, he gasped in a desperate breath, then collapsed onto his side when it made his chest ache terribly. Gods, it hurt. Hurt in his nightmares, hurt in reality, was there ever an escape? The ant stifled a groan, blinking back tears.

It was weird; he could’ve sworn the injury was healed enough to not hurt this much by now. The bandages were more of a precaution than a necessity, with the chitin mostly sealed shut. So why did it feel like he just got it? Was the pain even real, or was it all in his head?

He couldn’t do much, the stinging ache strong enough to incapacitate him for the moment. All the warrior could do was breathe, clutch at his thorax, and try not to make too much noise. Wouldn’t want to irritate his host any more than he did by merely existing, and all that. In truth, he had an inkling that Oro did actually care, somehow, under that gruff exterior, but that was… a weird thought. Implausible. He didn’t linger on it too much.

After several minutes of suffering in (what he thought was) silence, Tiso was shaken by a sudden presence behind him. He flinched at the low voice rumbling so close by.

“You’re not going to be able to fall back asleep, are you?” It was more of a statement then a question. A conclusion that the Nailmaster had already resigned himself to. Stiffly, the ant rolled over to face him, the hulking form of the beetle appearing as a looming shadow in the dark, even with his seated position. How long had he been there?

“...No,” Tiso eventually croaked out, “h-hurts.”

Oro took a few moments to look him over. The smaller bug’s chest was exposed from throwing off the blankets when he woke, so Oro was able to see that the bandages looked clean. No scent of hemolymph in the air, either. He grunted. “Where’s it hurt?”

“Dunno,” Tiso whispered, “Jus’.. had a nightmare, started hurting.”

“Nothing torn open, then?”

The warrior shrugged. Oro stared at him for a few moments longer, making him shift uncomfortably. The Nailmaster sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, and asked, “Anything I can do about it?”

By the tone of his voice, he didn’t sound like he expected a ‘yes.’ Tiso found himself agreeing with the sentiment, giving into the fact that he’d probably be left lying awake and in pain for at least a few more hours. In response to the question, he merely shrugged again and started picking at the blanket, trying in vain to ignore the bad memories dancing at the edge of his thoughts and the stupid, pulsing ache that refused to go away.

It was at that moment that Oro’s stomach opted to voice a complaint. The two bugs froze. Slowly, Tiso focused his gaze on the Nailmaster’s middle in consideration. The beetle stared back with a searching look, seemingly trying to read his thoughts. Really, the ant wasn’t sure what to think just yet. It.. maybe..? It was a ridiculous idea, but…

“I mean,” he started, trailing off for a moment. Was he really about to acknowledge this as an idea, let alone ask for it? This was stupid. He had been terrified the first time. The second time was only because there had been no other way to warm up, except maybe just straight up cuddling the Nailmaster, which- ew, no. This idea, getting.. eugh, eaten… It wouldn’t help, would it? Would it? It was warm, true, and soft, sure, but it was weird. So vastly different from any other experience he’d ever had. Well, the process of getting down there was a bit too close for comfort to the feeling of being crushed, but after that, it- it wasn’t so bad? Maybe…

Tiso looked up to meet Oro’s eyes. The larger bug didn’t look like he liked where this was going. Still, it didn’t technically hurt to ask, since the ant had lost a lot of his sense of shame long ago. Not all of it, but a lot. Cringing, he gestured vaguely at the other’s midsection. “Could- uh. Could you..?”

Oro continued staring for a few seconds longer before heaving a weary sigh and putting a hand flat over his mask. Tiso picked at the blanket again while the Nailmaster muttered to himself. Something like “Why do I even put up with-..” Another moment of awkward silence, and then- “Sure.”

Oh. Okay. Cool. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

…

A little under a minute later, he found himself with his head in Oro’s mouth, the beetle’s mandibles poised carefully over either side of his neck. It took effort to remain calm in the dank heat. He breathed only through his spiracles and held his mouth shut, not wanting to take in the other’s air until he had to. He tried not to focus on the taste of saliva clinging to his antennae. At least it was easy to keep the nightmare off his mind.

The large mandibles opened wider, wide enough to accommodate his shoulders. Slowly, hesitantly, the hand resting heavily on his back pushed him in further, until his head was up against the back of the larger bug’s throat. The first gulp sounded around him as it began to pull him in.

Gross, Tiso thought, uncertain of how much he truly meant it.

…

Another few minutes, and Oro was standing up to go back to bed, a certain injured warrior tucked away in his belly. Said warrior took in his surroundings, feeling conflicted. This was quite far from the nightmare, or any other bad memories, aside from that of the first time this whole—whatever this was—happened. It was a closed space, but it was safe. Oro had made it clear that he had no interest in hurting him. The walls undulated around him, kneading at his form, but passively enough to indicate that they did not consider him food. The stomach swayed a little with each step as the Nailmaster made his way across the room. It was… oddly calming.

A line of hearts softly beat somewhere beyond the back wall, pressing up against his legs. The sound and feeling of breathing surrounded him on all sides, betraying the thoughts and feelings of his host, not letting him forget that he was in Oro. That gruff, unsociable, brick wall of a bug had taken him into his body, holding him there in some strange way of helping him sleep, because he- he asked. Tiso asked for this.

If he focused on the feeling of the wall behind him, there was a gentle, unmoving pressure. He could imagine it as the hand of the Nailmaster, comprehending the fact that he had his ward inside just as much as Tiso was letting the reverse sink in. He thought he’d felt that small pressure the other two times as well. If he was right about what it meant, he wondered why Oro did it so much. He didn’t seem the type—far from it, in fact. He didn’t touch the ant except to change his bandages, or that one, no, two times he had to carry him in from outside, and then the other two times he.. ate him. But that was it. Maybe that was odd, maybe he was just overthinking it. For now, he was too tired for this.

He leaned back into the flesh around him, letting the waves of muscle push him around as they would. He might as well try and get some sleep. That’s what he was here for, after all. Once Oro laid down, leaving Tiso resting on his side, it wasn’t hard at all. Every quiet gurgle, every soft pulse, every gentle squish, all served to lull him further under. He even forgot that his chest was supposed to hurt.

Yeah, this was weird. But “weird” might as well be his life now. Because why not? This wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to him. It… maybe wouldn’t be terrible if it happened again. Not that he’d ever say it, but. Eh.

The warrior had only one last thought, before drifting into a dreamless sleep: Since when is being eaten alive so comforting?

************************************

Overheard Conversation

Characters: Ghost, Oro (Tiso’s presence is heavily implied but not stated) Word Count: 1,126 Warnings/Notes: Woah, an actual direct follow-up to the last one! None of the same warnings apply, but there is some swearing. and Half-Size Vore, but from an observer perspective of the next morning more than anything. side note--while writing this, I remembered that Bug Bites 1-1 exists, and I didn’t want to directly contradict it, so in this one, Ghost doesn’t know that Tiso’s staying with Oro yet. Bug Bites 1-1 takes place a good while after this, when Tiso is more casual about the whole “getting eaten” thing

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Ghost was once again wandering, and just so happened to be in the general vicinity of Oro’s hut. They were getting better at fending off the great hoppers at least, but it still wasn’t fun, they’d had a long day of exploring, and they were tired. Didn’t Oro at one point say something about being obligated to let them rest in his house? They might just take him up on that.

Shuffling through the entryway, there were two things they noticed. One, the Nailmaster wasn’t in his usual spot. Two, the skylight was closed, casting the room in deep shadows. They looked around, curious. Maybe he was out hunting?

Moving towards the back of the room, they could hear the faint sounds of breathing, coming from somewhere behind one of the curtains. They walked up to it and cautiously pulled it aside, just enough to look. Oh. There he was.

Behind the curtain was a little nook, with a bed just large enough to hold the Nailmaster that rested atop it. He was facing away, but they could tell by the slow rise and fall of his sides that he was probably asleep. Ghost had… kind of forgotten that regular bugs had regular sleep schedules, to be perfectly honest. They idly wondered why he wasn’t sleeping in the larger bed across the room. It looked like it’d be a lot more comfortable for him. Whatever, other bugs’ sleeping habits weren’t really their business.

The little vessel strode over to the other bed and hopped onto it, since no one was using it right then anyway. Some part of their mind took note of the fact that it looked to have been recently occupied, the sheets having been haphazardly pulled into place and the pillow still having an indent from the weight of someone’s head, but they were too tired to read much into it. They wriggled under the aforementioned pillow and promptly passed out in the pitch darkness.

——————————————

They woke to the sound of blankets rustling. They instinctively tensed, remaining still and hidden, but prepared to bolt at any second. It took them a second to recall where they’d fallen asleep, relaxing slightly when it came back to them. Right, this was a safe spot. They weren’t the most welcome here, but they wouldn’t be hurt for intruding.

The sound that had woken them wasn’t even from too nearby—it was rather muffled, actually. Ghost was just an incredibly light sleeper most of the time, and their sense of hearing was better than most. They scooted towards the edge of the pillow, allowing the tips of their horns to poke out from underneath so they could hear better.

By the sounds of the rustling, Oro was likely getting up. He had sat up, but not gotten to his feet yet. A subtle crack of chitin accompanied a big stretch, a long draw of air through the spiracles signifying a yawn. The Nailmaster huffed and began to mutter, seemingly to himself. Huh, that was odd. They didn’t think him the type to talk to himself. Then again, some bugs acted differently when they thought they were alone.

“Mmh… Whelp? You awake?” Wait, what? Had they been spotted? But he didn’t sound- “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Did you sleep okay, at least?” -surprised. …Was he talking to someone else? “Good. Wyrm knows you need it.” The beetle clicked his mandibles a few times, then added, “Come on, then. Let’s get you out of my space.” Who could he be talking to?

The wanderer’s musings were interrupted by the sound of retching. In their shock, they couldn’t tell what he murmured next, but it was followed by the sound of even more intense hacking. Utterly at a loss for what he was doing, they pushed up corner of the pillow and peeked out from their hiding spot. On the other side of the room, Oro was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched forward and by all means looking to be trying to throw up. He had his hands out in front of him, draped in a towel that he’d grabbed from… somewhere. Honestly, who kept towels by their bed?

They started to understand when he put a hand to his chest and mumbled down at it. Ah, he’d eaten someone. It wasn’t a completely foreign concept, but still rather strange to them. Who the heck would Oro eat? There weren’t many bugs living around here, and Ghost couldn’t think of anyone Oro, of all bugs, would even talk to like this, let alone ingest. They opted to continue listening to see if that’d help them figure it out. They let the pillow back down to cover them, lest their little guessing game be cut short.

The Nailmaster coughed again. “Why aren’t you..?” he voiced, trailing off. There was a pause. “Yeah, ‘course I’m sitting up. What are you talking abou-?” A long, long pause. “How in the FUCK did you get yourself SIDEWAYS?!”

It was a good thing Oro wasn’t looking up, because he’d easily spot the shaking of their hiding spot as the vessel broke into laughter. It was noiseless, but their whole body was quivering with mirth. They didn’t know what they’d be intruding on when they came in here, but it sure was worth it. Poor Oro. And poor… whoever was in his belly.

“Okay, shit, just uh- fuck, I don’t know, get unsideways?”

Whatever the beetle was hoping to achieve with that, it didn’t work, if all the shuffling, grunts, and awkward hacking that came after were any indication.

“Ungh, gods, stop—hrrk—STOP. You can stay there for now, I don’t care, just stop moving. We’ll get you out when you’re more awake. Just, for the love of Root, don’t get any more stuck, alright? Alright. Godsdamn…” Ooookay, sounds like the entertainment is about done. They should probably go.

They slipped out from under the pillow and off of the bed as Oro stood up from his own. The Nailmaster jerked into a fighting stance upon seeing them.

“Who-?! Oh, traveller. Must you invade my home like this?” the larger bug muttered, untensing. He put a hand protectively over his middle, looked to the side, and loudly cleared his throat. “Right, well, if you’ve gotten all the rest you need, kindly get out of my house.”

The little ghost promptly nodded and turned away to walk to the door. As they silently padded away, they thought they could just make out the sound of a cackle somewhere behind them. Something about the voice was familiar, but it was too muffled to tell. It was soon interrupted by a dull ‘thump’ as Oro swatted at his middle. “Shut up,” the Nailmaster hissed.

The laughter continued.

************************************

aight, there we go. *checks end notes of Bug Bites 2* aha, ha, yeah. haha. nailed that goal. watch as Bug Bites 4 takes 12 months to come out!

Bug Bites 4 actually does have less Tiso in it. by a slight margin. and heckin Hornet appears, woahhhh! but I’m gonna write some more oneshots between now and then, maybe even a multi-chapter fic if I can get around to it. wish me luck!

Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and criticism is accepted, so long as it’s constructive/respectful. Asks are open.

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DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.

#soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #g/t vore #half size vore #hk vore #fandom vore #hk spoilers #vore fic #my writing #ficlet collection #tw bugs

40 notes · View notes

caltropspress · 11 months

Text

RAPS + CRAFTS #15: Duncecap

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Hey, I’m Duncecap. I've been writing and producing hip hop music since I was 15. I've also been shooting and editing videos since I was a kid.

You may have heard some of my projects released via Backwoodz Studioz (miserable then, Go Climb a Tree). You may also know me from crazy performances in NYC with the group we are the karma kids. Some of my albums from that time are Human Error and Rapping is for Idiots.

In terms of upcoming music - exciting new stuff is coming! One forthcoming album is chiefly self-produced, one of them produced entirely by Steel Tipped Dove.

Also I have a “secret” side project - experimental ambient music under the name Depression Naps. That will probably come out this year. I need to figure the release out ASAP though.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

I usually write on the move; I’m listening to music, I have thoughts, and need something to do - it goes together perfectly. I write on walks, taking the subway, in a car. Physically moving is definitely not a rule though. I also write while procrastinating at home on the couch, or sitting with a coffee outside, in a diner is fun, etc.

No routine time per se - I’m ready to write on a moment's notice and usually do it that way randomly throughout the day, every day.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

I used to write in a pocket-sized notebook all the time. Writing on paper really sets some immediate boundaries with space and even the speed which you can physically write. Lyrics get crossed out then circled or rewritten and crossed out again. Sometimes you can’t read what you wrote.

Now I write on my phone. It’s faster, more legible, and with infinite space - but it’s easier to get carried away with overwriting. I’ll drop anything to write an idea down. I’m somewhat of a compulsive idea hoarder, I don’t want to let a good idea pass.

I would love to be able to be the type of person that could fully write songs in my head but I got a lot of other things going on in there too and I get distracted easily. Freestyling is fun but I’m gonna need to write down anything I want to remember.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

For most of my life I would write bars in long sentences, but in the past couple years I’ve noticed I’ve been breaking up my lines into halves or down to single words rather than bars. I call it my 'poetic style' on account of how it looks on the page but also how my delivery changes when I write this way. It helps me get more granular conceptually and with the rhymes too. I enjoy the end result and my voicing in that style. Projects I’ve written in this way are Genuinely Sad Songs and miserable then and the new stuff.

Writing can get pretty disorganized regardless of medium too, but I try to run a tight ship. Disorganized writing in a digital space might look like several versions of the same lyrics doc or alternative lyrics in the same space as the original one.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Depends on the strength of the original writing, the context, and how much time I want to spend editing it.

Sometimes it’s 4 bars in or less I might know. Sometimes, there’s one line in an otherwise great verse that I’m unsure about and everything past that one line feels off. Sometimes I write a whole verse and return to it thinking, “Maybe this isn’t the angle.”

Digitally, I never throw anything away. At this point I’ve embraced it, although it does weigh me down a little bit. I would love to cull the “good stuff” and start fresh in my notes app, but at this point it might take longer than it’s worth.

Occasionally, a verse gets lost in the ether or I cut a song and I can reuse the verse elsewhere or break it down for parts. Most of the time what I write is tailored to a special concept or nuanced emotional expression. It gets tricky to go back and plug old writing into those pieces and I tend to start over in that case.

That isn’t to say that I don’t find old verses I can match up to new songs - but it doesn’t always feel good. It shouldn’t matter honestly, but something in me says: start fresh.

Though looking through searchable results in my notes app can jog my brain and get the gears turning - it’s like a mood board but with elements I created.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

Poetry - yes. It very much influences it. This is where my writing started as a pre-teen and I still write poetry and infuse it into my music.

Screenwriting - yes (I want to write more scripts).

Fiction - as a child I did write stories pretty frequently and had a bunch of little one page stories with cover art and stuff. The last long form narrative prose I wrote was a kind of memoir in college while locked out of my dorm. I wrote it all on a Blackberry phone.

I journal too when things are rough and want to reexamine something I know I will want to reflect on in my life. A lot of times in the moment I’m experiencing it, most likely in a way to detach.

I’m trying to think how these different mediums might specifically affect my songwriting. Poetry and journaling, for sure. The only thing I can think about for screenwriting is sometimes I will write dialogue in my songs but I don’t really clarify it as such. It’s more like internal dialogue. Sometimes I dub or adlib those lines if it’s crucial to communicate that it's another character besides mine in a song. Those moments of pseudo dialogue reminds me of the flow you can enter when writing a scene in screenwriting software - so maybe that's the link.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

For me, it matters the song I’m writing.

Sometimes I will write a verse about literally where I’m writing or I will write a song as a way to work myself through an emotional event. These kinds of writings I try to preserve for the integrity of that moment in time and where I was physically and/or emotionally.

For more pre-conceived and intentional concepts I will painstakingly edit them until they feel right. “Did I structure this in the most elegant way possible?” “Am I communicating the concept clearly and cleverly?” Etc.

Those same kinds of quality controlling conditions happen regardless of how I’m writing, but there’s a bit more forgiveness in favor of earnestness when I get more personal on tracks.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

Both, it depends on the situation and how I’m feeling.

A lot of stuff on miserable then was written as poetry first and then fit to beats. Same goes for the Genuinely Sad Songs EP. I would also record freestyles to those beats and then decode the nonsense lyrics and tones or use the rhyme patterns I established.

Most other times I would say that I write to the beat while taking some breaks listening so it doesn’t get too repetitive.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

Many times I write to sort myself out, so it’s stream of consciousness while I’m overanalyzing the very stream of consciousness I’m writing. This is where I get more introspective on songs. I’ll be led by trying to find an “answer” to what I’m feeling while making it structured and rhyme.

Sometimes I look around the notes app for thought starters and when navigating that labyrinth I’ll be reminded of concepts I meant to write about later. I'll match up themes to new production to see if I can make my life a little easier if a theme or lyric doesn’t come to mind inherently for a song. This ends up being very satisfying since the piece ends up being planned out a bit more but with minimal effort.

Rhyming does force some rules on your writing but you get used to navigating that. I wouldn’t say that rhyming would constrain a song from being made but it does make creating a song more of a puzzle - which is a lot of the fun.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I like to experiment with rhyming. I get bored with keeping the same rhyme scheme for a whole verse while other times it’s the thing that drives me. When you have the same scheme for a whole verse you get to play with the audience's expectations. If you're rhyming and the person you're with finishes the line for you - for me, it can be a sign that you're too predictable of a rhymer. But if you want to be optimistic, you can see that as a sign that you are a good songwriter. It really depends on what you are trying to accomplish at the time.

Sometimes rhyming doesn’t cross my mind at all and other times I’m trying to rhyme each word in a sentence to its parallel word in the subsequent line. Other times my lyrics are more melody driven and that takes a burden off of rhyme all together, or at least modifies expectation.

I have always been fascinated by rhyme and its predictability. I love hearing wild tongue twisters that I still can’t guess the ending rhymes for. Rhyming is such a unique tool that you can subvert expectations very easily with. I find myself using an A B A B rhyme pattern pretty frequently. It’s a nice way to balance the “shock value” of non-rhyming but also getting rewarded with a rhyme. It’s also a good fall back if you are freestyling and forget to rhyme.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

Here’s a couple songs where the concepts were pre-determined and I’m proud of how the final product met that initial vision:

“Under the Hood” (feat. Fielded) || Go Climb a Tree

I had the title and knew I wanted to write about how things in life are many times antagonistically assembled or precariously produced - and then presented as clean, polished or well-thought out products. And how fragile it all is even after it’s released.

“Well oiled machine in the shippiest shape, / One domino is all the difference it takes.”

“Definitely” (feat. E L U C I D & Quelle Chris) || Rapping is for Idiots

I asked them to write as busy/unreachable rappers and I was supposed to be the desperate collaborator. Everybody nailed it and the video came out great as well. It’s extra gratifying to piece together a concept track with multiple folks on a record.

In terms of one verse to point to - there’s this verse I’m especially proud of from this upcoming Dove album. It hits hard but is also very on-point conceptually. It’s an example of one of those titles or concepts I’ve had floating around in my notes app for years and then it finally fell into place when I heard the right beat at the right time. The song is about the over-abundance of, well, everything and how overwhelming life can be in the current zeitgeist.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

I always used to have this question answered but the answer would change every year or so when I wrote a new project. I use writing as a means of self-discovery and the growth is never over. I don't think it'll ever be easy for me to settle on a favorite lyric because as soon as one is out of my system, I potentially don't relate to it anymore if it’s married to a specific emotional incident. Instead I go, “Oh, yeah I did a good job explaining how I felt at the time,” but it doesn’t feel as electric anymore to me in the present.

Despite that, I’ll answer the question. Here are some old standouts, I wouldn’t say I have a favorite though:

“Being self aware is not the same as trying to do something [about it]” (Bad Breath [’Toid Up])

The genesis being to have a way to remind myself and others that just because you know you are a little fucked up doesn’t mean you are actually being productive or healthy about it. Worst-case scenario it’s a negligible position to be enabling yourself but with a false sense of security.

The song “Rocks in Your Shoes” is mostly a free-write but has bars I’m proud of that satisfy both an introspective/punchy appetite:

“I talk like a parrot with a TV in the room”

“I like the way my mouth dances when I spit a tune, / My bars are choreography for my lips to move”

I dunno!

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

Do I whittle a bar down for breath control? Yes. That usually comes in the initial writing phase but doesn’t stop there.

A lot of people, including myself, will practice their flows under their breath if they are in public or a room full of people. It’s a little odd to go full volume in those situations. Personally, I’ve found that practicing quietly like that can be misleading when it comes time to record.

Recording a demo is important. Most of the time I will face the reality of my breath control in these recordings then listen back and whittle down some more or change phrasings. Or I learn I hate a lyric the instant I’m forced to say it out loud or in front of people. The actual recording after the demo is always much more confident and polished. I either try to demo first or perform it live first before I record. Sometimes you write the verse and immediately record and land the first take, punching those always feels sacrilegious but you gotta do what you gotta do.

I usually try to deliver verses in one take when I record. In my head, if you are planning to perform your material live anyway, it makes sense to learn it as you will perform it live.

That being said - sometimes stylistically you might want to punch a lot or the take was perfect except for one moment. I’m more than happy to punch in those instances. I used to be more stubborn about not punching-in but when you are working with other people’s time it doesn't always make sense to deliver things in one take but it’s usually very satisfying.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Musically - ambient music! I have always listened to “relaxing music” since I was a kid because I have always had anxiety. As I’ve gotten older that expanded to more experimental music, noisy music. Field recordings and ambient tones have been very inspiring to me the past couple of years.

I've been working towards bridging the gap of my “beats” and sonic experimentations for a little while and will be releasing a new ambient project this year (2023). I also recently produced an EP for someone while practicing this same type of experimental production processes.

Outside of music I would say film! I use a lot of filmmaking language in my writing because that's just how my brain works. It’s also a clinical way to describe things visually.

Also, I’m inspired a lot from my surroundings and experiences. I try to pull songs from my life and the characters I see or interact with. You can turn anything into poetry and I try to.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Dude. Self-doubt all day. Imposter syndrome all day. “I suck.” etc. I usually briefly fall in love with whatever new music I’m making and then get more distant to it when I begin something new. Recently, I was head over heels with a new song, then a day later my certainty of its quality was subverted by my silly brain.

As I get older I’m learning to appreciate my music more. I used to be the guy to delete music after publishing it but that isn’t sustainable nor fair to listeners. Combating self-doubt will always be a journey.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

All of them? Sometimes I hear a beat and think of people I know that could potentially feature on the track with me - or even famous rappers - but then I decide to have no features on the song. In those cases I worry that I might sound like whoever I thought of initially. When that happens I share a demo with friends and it’s usually just in my head.

I’m not sure this has happened to you, but there’s those moments where you strike gold while writing and realize, “Oh…this is just [famous song]”. I’m paranoid of that happening. Sometimes I won’t listen to new projects immediately if I'm already in the middle of writing something - that way it doesn’t rub off on me subconsciously.

Funny enough though, I think hip-hop is pretty forgiving of that kind of thing in the right context. So many artists pay tribute by flipping famous lines or flows and putting them in their own songs.You don't see nearly as many cover songs in the genre as in others but see more reworkings, references, and shout-outs.

I mean if you are biting someone's style completely that’s a no-no, but I’m not concerned about that happening.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

My goal is to be financially stable off of video and music alone.

In terms of projects, collaborations, etc. - I will always want to work with talented people and especially ones that have vision or challenge me to think outside the box. Connecting with other artists will always be a big part of music for me.

Content-wise, I want to keep experimenting but also take myself more seriously and write less about emotional/personal issues as my default. Mental health issues are important for me and listeners tell me my words have helped them. That’s why I still do write this way and partly why I started writing that way too. If any of my experiences and learnings can help people in the same spot it’s a win and very rewarding. It’s just as validating for me to hear people relate to my writing as I’m sure it might be for a listener to hear someone describe how they feel.

I have always been an impulsive writer and I imagine that won’t change. I can say, though, that the more I work on myself the more my growth will reflect in my writing.

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: P Squared

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thescrapbookingscientist · 1 year

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Biweekly Media Roundup

- The Owl House (TV) - Alright so we got the penultimate episode, soon we’ll have no Owl House left. This was a pretty good setup, the most memorable parts being Willows much needed development, Luz’s palismen reveal, the brief snippets of Collector lore, and Eda and Lilith's new looks. The school stuff sorta dragged as I wasn’t super interested in the background cast and their petty survivalist struggle when the Collector as an entity is a lot more intriguing; I do wish we got to see more of their deal though I suppose that’s something to look forward to in the finale.

- Buddy Daddies (Anime) - Buddy Daddies started off pretty good and has gotten a bit better each episode, with a pretty good sense of humor and some nice characterization moments for Rei. I’m still waiting for Miri to develop a personality beyond ‘Cute child’ (Something like Anya or Yotsuba), but as a vehicle for comedy/wholesomeness she works fine. Anyway, if you’re watching pause to read the daycare moms texts, they’re great.

- The Way of the House Husband (Anime) - An anime night staple, we’ve caught up with House Husband, which continues to be a great time. While the core joke of “Scary ex yakuza actually does really wholesome mundane things” is more or less the same each time, the execution changes enough to keep the formula working. In general it’s just a pleasant watch, and it’s kind of validating to see normal struggles like weeding your yard or impulse buying expensive food being treated with the same intensity as a shoot-out. It really be like that sometime.

- JJBA: Stone Ocean (Anime) - Welp finished Stone Ocean and. It did certainly end. I’m not really sure how I feel about it, I guess it’s not a bad end per se but it sure left a lot of things unanswered/open to interpretation. I guess Part 7 will elaborate more on the rules of the new world but for the characters in this part I guess we’ll just have to imagine what this Modern Day Nobody Dies Found Family AU is like. Either way my favorite nonbinary mass of plankton FF probably doesn’t exist in this new world either so bummer. Still, this was an interesting season, I did like the concept of gravity reversal and the opportunity to see the main cast outside of the prison setting. In terms of Jojo Parts overall I’d put it around the same Tier as Part 3, it had a solid cast of main characters, a good antagonist, and some interesting stand match-ups, but could also drag a bit as I zoned out during quite a few of the villain-of-the-week battles, and lacked consistency when it came to the power set rules.

- The Greatest Estate Developer (Webcomic) - I still have brainrot over these guys, I’m going to cave and read the webnovel any minute I can feel it.

- Demon Slayer (Anime) - Watched the whole Mugen Train Arc this week, which had some extra content from the movie to allow for more Rengoku time. Again, I don’t have much to say, still really impressed by the final battle and Inosuke is still best boy.

- Love Is War (Anime) - So this is one I’ve had on the backburner for a while, I had heard from basically everyone that it was amazing but had attempted to watch the first few episodes a few times and never got it to stick. To be fair I had known that I should give it longer to impress me, comedies in general usually take at least half a season to endear you to the characters before getting really good, I guess I just had other things I was more interested in. Well, no more, now that my sister is watching it with me we’ve blown right though the first season, and while I still wouldn’t call it a masterpiece I do see where the hype is coming from, the cast is a lot of fun. The ending of the 1st season in particular was super cute, I’m rooting for these idiots.

- Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies (Video Game) - I had taken a brief break from my quest to complete the whole Ace Attorney franchise after Apollo Justice, but I’m back now with Dual Destinies. For positives so far I like Athena and Blackquill, as well as the Athena/Apollo sibling dynamic. For negatives I kind of wish Phoenix wasn’t as prevalent as he is, we are starting to get too many characters vying for the spotlight and I feel like there’s not enough time for any of them to make a lasting impression, especially poor Athena having to share her spotlight with 2 guys who already had their own games.

- Persona 5 Royal (Video Game) - Still impressed with how this game writes the core friend group, it’s very pleasant to watch them all interact. Yusuke and Makoto are my faves right now, though battle wise Ann and Ryuji are solid units. I don’t feel like writing much more atm, mostly because I’d rather be playing this game haha.

We also just started Gintama and Ranking of Kings at anime night. I’m theoretically watching Sense 8 and The Last of Us as well, though I’m behind due to prioritizing the others. Finally, I’ve been keeping up with ORV, S-Class, Demon School, and TVDINT as they publish weekly.

Listening to: Persona 5 OST, Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons, Parachute by Ingris Michaelson, Fear & Delight by The Correspondents, Her Diamonds by Rob Thomas, Melancholic by Junky, There She Goes by The La’s, Waiting For Love by Avicii, Every Little Thing She Does is Magic by The Police, Somebody Loves You by Betty Who, EPIC: The Troy Saga OST

#My posts #weekly roundup

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spnae · 2 years

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Chapter 32 Coming Clean?

When Buffy and Willow returned to the castle they promptly deposited their shopping bags upstairs. Then they made their way back down to the living room to check on Ruby. Spike, per usual, was lounging on the couch watching TV.

“Hey, there’s my favorite dead guy,” Buffy, went over to him. Spike sat up a little to make room for her and she snuggled in next to him.

Spike looked up at her, “Hey you, how was your day?” he asked.

Buffy huffed, “Oh you know. Probably said way too much to Callum‘s mom.” Spike raised an eyebrow at her, urging Buffy to continue, “Yeah I kind of told her that I was a Slayer too—“

“And now you’re regretting it?”

Buffy shrugged.

“Not like you told her anything about the school or the girls right?”

“Nah, I just gave her some quip about the life saving properties of CPR.”

“Right. Still think Angel was a bloody git. Xander told me about that whole thing. He had to do CPR on you because Angel has ‘no breath’? Oh yeah and those squeezy breathing bag things EMTs carry around don’t work either. Right. I bet the idiot just doesn’t know CPR. Git.”

Buffy looked at him blinking, “What?”

“Don’t NEED to breathe, Pet, doesn’t mean we can’t inflate our lungs. Cigarettes wouldn’t have much of an appeal if that were the case.”

“Huhh. I— huh. Ok, sure, so do you know CPR?”

“Course I do. Dawn had to learn it in Health class while you were a less-solid heavenly-body and after that gem of a story I had Xander and Dawn teach me.” He shrugged. “Anya suggested using me as a practice dummy but that was a hard pass for me.”

“Good to know. So how’s it been here?”

Spike sat up a little straighter, turning to see Willow a little better, “Yeah, could’ve used you, Red, a little bit ago. She had another one of those blasted panic attacks. She seems a bit calmer when you’re around. I finally got her calmed down but that took some doing. She keeps going on about ‘Lauren’, but won’t say anything else.”

Willow sat down in a chair looking troubled, “Yeah she brought her up a couple of times already. I’m really wondering if we should be looking for a body.”

Spike rubbed the back of his neck, “Probably a good bet. What do you birds have going tonight?”

Willow perked up, “I was going to ask Buffy if she would help me collect the stones I need for the protection spell around the property while it’s still light out and then I thought we could get Xan to help us engrave them with runes tomorrow night. Maybe we could watch a movie!”

“I’m a fan of this idea. Big old fashioned Scooby-gang fun. Stones instead of stakes.”

“That’s what I thought! I have two dremel tools for you guys to use. I figure I’ll draw out the runes, you two carve them and then pass them back to me to charm them.”

“Bloody hell, don’t hold back on the excitement,” Spike groused. “That covers tomorrow, what about tonight?”

“Girls are on patrol, I’m taking a night off with my favorite people.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Oh and you have big plans?”

“I’m still one of your favorite people aint I? I got some plans for tomorrow after we get Rubes settled in at the house and figured I’d go run some errands and get the bike after. Reckon it’s been sitting at Steve’s since we came back from Edinburgh, ‘bout time I got it back.”

“Oh yeah like that’s super exciting.”

“Smart ass,” he pulled her closer as he tickled her mercilessly, “Bit more adventurous than carving rocks!” He growled out playfully. Buffy laughed and squirmed as he continued to tickle her. He didn’t stop until she was laying on top of him panting for breath. He gazed into her sparkling eyes and dug one hand into her hair. He swallowed her final laugh when he cut her off with a long lingering kiss.

Willow cleared her throat, “You two do have a room last I checked.”

Spike hummed in mild protest as Buffy broke the kiss, then sighed, “Red’s right, Pet. I’d originally thought about going on patrol or playing cards or something tonight but I could do with a night in. Especially if you lot are doing the arts and crafts part of witchcraft tomorrow.”

“I have all four Level 4 girls out on patrol tonight, it would be a serious waste of your time.”

“Home it is then,” he grinned up at her wickedly, “might not be such a dull night after all.”

“You’re bad,” Buffy giggled.

“Don’t you forget it, Love.” He pulled her in for another kiss.

“Seriously, you guys literally have a room here. Upstairs, in fact.”

“That we do, you don’t have to collect your rocks right this minute do you?” He asked as he trailed a finger from behind Buffy’s ear and down to her cleavage letting his searing blue gaze linger.

Buffy stood up pulling Spike with her, “Humm, Willow—“

“I’ll keep tabs on Ruby. Just don’t be too long, I really do need to get those stones gathered, the carving might take a while.”

“You heard the little witch, time is of the essence,” Spike backed away out of the room grinning at Buffy as he did.

Buffy couldn’t help the smile on her face, “He’s— eh— I’m just going to—“

“Go on, get out of here.”

Spike was waiting for her by the elevator when she caught up to him. He gave her a hard, dangerous look and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders to kiss her. Buffy’s mind snapped to attention and she shoved him into the elevator, pinning him against the wall. Spike let out a low growl at the impact and moved a splayed hand across the small of her back, holding her to him.

“You gonna give it to me rough then?” He grinned, “Might not get you back to your mates in a timely manner if we take that route.”

“We can do quick and rough.”

“Deal,” he murmured as he nipped hard at her neck with blunt teeth and shoved her against the wall of the elevator fumbling for the controls.

Spike managed to get the elevator moving and a moment later they had reached their floor. They paused long enough to exit the small space and then they were once again locked together kissing, groping, and shoving each other roughly against the walls in the hallway like a sexually fuelled pinball game.

Buffy pinned Spike against their bedroom door until she found the doorknob. The door gave way suddenly and the two of them fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. They rolled together and Buffy positioned herself to shut the door with a kick. Spike gripped her skirt while Buffy yanked at his belt buckle.

“Oh God Buffy, I love you,” Spike groaned into the junction of her neck.

“You’re mine, all mine,” Buffy murmured possessively in his ear. Spike was usually the one to play that card. For some reason, she suddenly felt the need to say it. To claim him roughly. “Mine,” she bit his neck with her blunt teeth, eliciting a gasp from him.

“Always,” he growled, pulling her into a rough kiss. Her words and the bite had kindled a fire in him; he ran a hand roughly up her skirt. Buffy fumbled with his pants a little before she was able to release his smooth hard length from them. She stroked him from base to tip running her thumb over the tip feeling the delicious moisture there.

He moaned into her mouth as she stroked him greedily, “Slow down, Pet. Said quick, not instant. Want to get to the main event.” He twitched his fingers gripping her inner thigh. He pulled at the little panties, ripping them off of her and rubbed a thumb over her wet heat. Buffy gasped as he stroked her.

She was already wet and she let out a little growl of her own at the unnecessary foreplay, “Now. I want you now.” She repositioned herself forcefully, gliding down over him. She clamped around him as he rolled his hips driving himself into her. She gasped again as he pushed in fully and she met his thrusts with equally rough enthusiasm. Spike gasped.

Buffy grinned, gripping her fingers into his now semi-freed curls and pulled roughly. She brought him to her for a deep bruising kiss. Tongues pushing for dominance. Spike bit her lip making her shudder and she yanked his head back forcefully.

Spike grinned at the pain, “Getting close are you?”

Buffy increased her pace and he pushed into her harder with a grunt. Her inner walls crushed against him as the pressure built up. With the hand still tangled in his hair she cradled him to her shoulder, “Bite me,” she gasped. The fingers of her other hand reached under his shirt clawing at his back leaving deep scratches in his pale flesh.

Spike didn’t hesitate. Pulling at her shirt roughly, he bit with blunt teeth into the space between her shoulder and neck.

“Spike! Harder!’

He vamped, sinking his fangs in slightly. He wasn't feeding and it wasn’t a deep bite. Buffy gasped and felt herself nearing release. She wrapped her leg around him pulling him into her with almost bone crushing force. He increased the pressure of the bite very slightly and retracted his fangs. Then ran his tongue along the bite shuddering pleasurably at the taste of her. The effect of her blood was instant. He felt his body respond as he continued drilling into her hard, making her scream, “Gahhh! William!”

Buffy’s head swam as she lost herself in the myriad of sensations coursing through her.

He pushed into her pounding hard and fast, the pressure building. He held on until he felt her start to quiver. She gave his hair a yank as they came together hard in a quivering mass of tangled limbs. Pleasure and pain. Fast and rough and worth every second. Buffy kissed him as she continued to grind her hips against him.

After a moment, Spike placed a firm hand on her lower back holding her in place against him, as she caught her breath.

“Think we made good time?”, he teased.

Buffy laughed into the crook of his neck, “No idea. It was definitely fun though.”

“Been a little while since we got a bit rough.”

“Still fun.”

“Girl’s got a vamp kink.”

“Matches your Slayer kink.”

“Bloody well right, could go for a bit more of that if you’re willing,” he said, pulling her into another hard kiss.

“Not now. You’re being punished.”

“What for? Not the bite, surely. I barely had a taste and you literally asked for it.”

“Did you really have to rip my undies? I liked those ones.”

Spike rolled his eyes and flopped over onto his back, “Bloody hell, I’ll get you a sodding new pair, Slayer.”

Buffy grinned widely, she really loved to mess with him.

***********

By the time Buffy and Spike went back downstairs, Willow had already found a couple of buckets they could use to carry stones in. She held them up to her gleefully as Buffy and Spike came back into the living room “Ready? I found one for each of us, we can pretend it’s an Easter Egg Hunt!”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh Will, I missed you. Yes, rock my world with your witchy egg hunt.”

Spike turned to her quizzically, “Buffy, sweetheart, I think your pun mixer is broken.”

“Nah, that was solid.”

“You’re better than this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure I can dig up some rockin' puns before we finish this project.”

“Oh god, here we go.”

“You love my puns.”

“Just so long as you're not putting marzipan in my pie plate we’re good.”

“To that I say a big ‘Huhh?’”

Willow rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry about it, Buff, it was a Buffy-Bot thing that you totally missed with the whole being dead.”

“Oh come on, the rock thing wasn’t bad, in fact, I think I rock the rock puns.”

“I’ll let you rock me with any rock pun you want to throw at me.”

“Didn’t we just do that, my hot lava?”

Spike grinned, “Oh yeah, got our rocks off, real good.”

“You know I’m going to win a pun-off right?”

He chuckled, “We keep it up and we’re going to end up back upstairs.”

Buffy placed her hands on his hips, pulling him closer, “Are you still taking requests?”

“I’ll be your short-order cook, hot and ready or cool and slow, whatever tickles your fancy, Pet.”

Buffy felt herself melting into him for a kiss before she could stop herself.

“Okay! As fun as this is, I think maybe Buffy and I should get a move on. These stones won’t collect themselves.” Willow said as she wiggled the buckets at them.

Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah right, I’m gonna yeah— check in on Ruby. She’s still in rough shape. Sort of glad they don’t have things ready for her over there, kinda want to keep an eye on her.”

“That won’t take long though, what are you going to do until tonight?”

“Might poke around the library a bit.”

“I’m surprised you haven't read every poetry book in there yet.”

“Yeah well, it’s been nice having a proper in-house library. I never realized how much I missed it until we got here.”

“You know, you can start collecting books and build your own library in our new place. The attic already has a ton of shelves, it’s probably what they used it for anyway or maybe you could have it in your Spike-space.”

“Could work, we’ll talk later. Mustn't dottle, Pet,” he kissed her once more before heading towards the utility room.

************************

The two friends had been collecting smaller stones from along the border of the property and the low stone wall surrounding it for over thirty minutes. They had been chatting idoly when Willow suddenly cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Buffy I have a confession to make.”

Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, she had expected something was still off between them. She turned towards her friend, “I’m listening.”

Willow straightened up after picking up another stone, “I’ve been going through those files Wes sent.”

“Yeah the stuff on Angel right?”

“Well, yeah. There’s a bunch of that but that’s not what I’ve been working on.”

“It’s not?”

“Wes also sent me what looks like pretty much everything W&H had on Slayers… there’s a lot and it’s not all translated so it’s been really slow. I’ve had Andrew and Dawn working on pieces but neither of them have a full picture of any of it.”

“Does Giles know?”

“He knows Wes sent some stuff but I didn’t tell him exactly how much. A lot of it is stuff Giles already has, but there’s some new stuff too. I found a couple things that are a little— disturbing,” Willow said as she picked up a few more stones along the way.

“Disturbing? Like how disturbing? What do you know, Will?”

“Well that is sort of the problem. I haven’t been able to get through all of it and then Xander just brought back a bunch of books and scrolls and a stone tablet he found in Africa so now there’s that much more to go through. He was supposed to be showing those to Giles today. A few of them are referenced in the files from W&H. It might still take a while to figure out. I’m hoping I can start playing connect the dots soon.”

“Okay— I’m hearing a lot of words but I’m not hearing why all the squirrely. What dots are you connecting?”

“Remember a while back when we were talking about the fact that there hasn’t been a record of any Slayer making it past the age of 25; like there’s some crazy expiration date?”

Yeah, Niki Wood is the oldest I ever heard about and she didn’t reach her 26th birthday.”

“Yeah well I started translating some of the new stuff, I brought it with me to have Giles take a look at it too— If I found what I think I found— This one part I was reading has been seriously bugging me. It mentions the Slayer receiving her gift by the end of her 25th year. I took another look at it after talking to Spike and it looks like another part translates to ‘Death Wish’.”

“You told Spike?”

“Oh goddess no! It was just something he said; it sparked an idea in my head and I went to check on it this morning. That's when I put together the Death-wish thing.”

“Death is my gift right? But I already sort of returned that gift… or well—“

“I returned it for you— yeah…” Willow sighed and leaned against the stone wall. “That’s the thing I’m so worried about... I haven’t finished the translation but, I think I might have accidentally— made you sort of immortal—ish— maybe.”

“Huhh?”

“The stone tablet Xan brought back, it’s one that W&H didn’t have, anyway it seems to contain part of the original working from creating the first slayer. It’s written more like a story so it’s difficult to figure out but... I don’t know. I don’t have anything solid on it yet but I just— I had to come clean and let you know. I don’t know if what I did made things better or worse for you and I won’t know until I finish going through all this stuff. It’s been kind of an obsession.”

“Is this why things are strained between you and Kennedy?”

“The obsession part maybe. I haven’t told her any of the rest of it. I’ve been too afraid too say anything, and… we really haven’t been talking much for a while now. It’s part of the reason why I’m hoping Kennedy is gone before I get back.” Willow hesitated and Buffy was sure there was something else she wasn’t saying.

“I just need to be able to focus on this because this could really be big and I just I can’t right now, Buffy! I can’t deal with Kennedy. I can’t deal with thinking about you dying again or maybe not being able to die at all because I brought you back from the dead and maybe that whole thing doesn’t apply to you anymore and maybe it doesn’t apply to any Slayer anymore because I used you as the basis of the sharing spell instead of Faith. I have no idea, I just don’t know—“ she sniffed.

Buffy’s mind was reeling. She blinked several times as she stared at her, anger suddenly flared, “Willow! I just sent a girl home to her mother in a box! She definitely wasn’t immortal!”

“She was also 15, not 25, or more specifically 26. I have to do more research and make sure the math is right but I’m pretty sure that if you make it to 26 you probably aren’t going to age anymore— maybe none of you will IF they can stay alive that long. You might still be able to die but it would have to be something seriously extreme.”

“Like a beheading? So what, I’m like the freaking Highlander now? Buffy McLeod?”

“Probably, or something similar, I think— I don’t know yet I really have to do more research.”

Buffy looked at her friend aghast, blinking several times, “Why are you telling me now, if you’re not sure?”

“Because it’s ripping me up inside. The not telling. I feel like I’m lying to my best friend about something I did. A big something that could affect your entire- possibly very, very long life,” she was almost in tears. Willow took a deep breath.

“But we don’t know for sure,” Buffy paused for a moment, “and I can think of one plus.”

Willow looked at her knowingly, “Yeah I guess it would be sort of perfect for you and Spike.”

It was a lot to take in, “But why 25?”

“As far as I can tell, I think it has something to do with ‘the end of maidenhood’,” Willow scoffed as she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Sick bastards. Like it’s not enough to take a girl and turn her into the Slayer but then they have to shorten her already short life with a death wish AND an expiration date?”

“I’m not really sure yet but that’s exactly what it looks like. It seems like it was worked right into the original spell. Probably for that reason.”

Buffy nodded, “Sure, young and pretty girls are better bait for the trap,” she snorted derisively, “Well, we still have some time before I get there and if you’re right I could still die before that. Yay me!”

“That’s just it— the other girls can, that's for sure— but I think you might be different.”

“Because you brought me back.”

She nodded, “That wound you got in the Hellmouth should have been fatal, but you got back up and not only continued to fight, but you also made a pretty daring escape, Buff.”

“But recently I had some broken ribs and I swear it took a couple of days longer to heal than usual.”

Willow chewed on her lip, “I’ve suspected since the Hellmouth that your pain tolerance has also elevated. It was always pretty high but now— I don’t know if you are really feeling the extent of your injuries. You might have had more damage than you thought, maybe even a punctured lung and you might not have noticed. Without X-rays I doubt we’ll ever know to be sure.”

Buffy thought about that as they kept walking along. It made a kind of sense really. “You know, I kinda think Spike probably would have been able to tell me if my lung was punctured… he’s no doctor but he knows anatomy pretty well and he has pretty good hearing. Might have just been broken worse than we thought. The bruising was pretty ugly, I don’t normally bruise like that. That vamp pretty much crushed my rib cage on one side.” She paused thinking about the head injury she got at the hospital and suddenly wondered just how hard she had hit her head.

“Good point.”

They had nearly finished their circuit around the property before Willow spoke up again, “So when were you going to tell me about you and Spike’s new place and when are you guys planning on moving?”

“I, oh yeah— it won’t be for a while, it needs some work and we wanted to talk to Dawn about it first. I can show you after we’re done here, it’s on the other side of the castle where we’re going to be keeping Ruby.”

“Yeah, we’re almost done here anyway. If you’re going to bring it up to Dawn, you should probably do it now. I don’t know if she’s gonna be able to transfer to Edinburgh for the fall semester.”

“Oh it’s not going to be ready that fast. Maybe by the spring semester if we’re lucky but that sort of brings me to my next point. I hoped you might want to take the other half of the duplex.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. This was all stuff that I wanted to talk to you guys in person about…”

“I— yeah that’s sort of why I put off telling you about this stuff too.”

“Seems like we’re both guilty of that then.”

“Ehh yeah, seems like. Are you going to tell Spike about this?”

Buffy had to think about that, “Of course. Eventually. I don’t want to get his hopes up too much… Just in case.”

Willow chewed on her lip, “I’ll keep at the books and go over the spells, do some calculations and see what I turn up.”

“Thanks Wil.”

“What’s your personal Witch on retainer for anyway?”

***********

The next night after the sun had gone down Willow helped Buffy and Spike gather up the blankets and pillows Ruby had been using and helped them get Ruby settled into the basement of the duplex. Buffy was a little surprised by how different the basement room looked now. She had just expected Xander and Callum to set up a cot and a mini fridge in a corner and call it done.

The guys, and Buffy suspected Faith too, had gone above and beyond. In addition to the cot and a mini fridge, they had also found some secondhand furniture for the space. A little bedside table, two comfortable but shabby reclining chairs and a small dresser, as well as a couple of mismatched end tables, an old television set and a couple of mismatched lamps. On the nightstand was a hot pink lava lamp and a large stack of old magazines. A small crate of dog eared paperbacks sat next to the bed. The overall effect was one of dank comfort.

“Not bad,” Spike smiled, “nice homey spot down here.”

“I sort of asked Xan to make it as cozy as possible but I didn’t think they would do all this.”

Willow deposited Ruby onto the cot. Ruby looked around the space with wide eyes. Then watched as Willow went over to the little bathroom, “Looks like someone cleaned this up too. There’s even a few towels and shampoo and stuff in here. A nice shower might be a good idea. Maybe you’ll feel a little better.”

Ruby scoffed, “Right, because a shower is going to wash away my sins. Soapy bubbles gonna clean up what I did?”

“Ain’t nothing going to do that. You can apologize to your family, there might still be hope there. Donning a white hat can soften the edges a bit but you’re gonna carry that weight a long time, Rubes. In the meantime, some scrubbing bubbles’ll do you wonders. Looks like you even got laundry capabilities set up.”

Willow quietly moved over to the washer and dryer in the laundry room to investigate the set-up.

“But you’re not alone, you have us now,” Buffy interjected as she wrapped an arm around Spike, “and you have a place to stay. You can fix it up however you want.” She left Spike’s side and opened the dresser drawers, there was a couple of old t-shirts and a few pairs of sleep pants but that was it. She pulled out a set, they were clean and would be comfortable to sleep in but not much else. “You’ll need some clothes—“

Willow stuck her head out of the laundry room, “Looks like the handy-guys were busy in here too. The washer has an out of order sign taped to it but there’s a sink and some laundry soap in here. There is a note on the dryer, looks like it’s from Xander— use at your own risk— Humm ok, so at least there’s a sink and some laundry detergent,” she crumpled up the note from Xander.

“We can always go over to your dorm or your parents house and get some stuff for you or I can go,” Buffy added.

Ruby swallowed and nodded once, “What would you tell them?”

“What do you want me to tell them? I can tell them anything you want as long as it’s at least close to the truth but I really think they would rather see you.”

“You do?”

Spike narrowed his eyes at Ruby, “Course they would. Although I don’t recommend going here right off, it might do you some good to see them. We will go with you, explain the soul thing and all,” Spike added.

“We don’t have to do it tonight do we?”

Willow spoke up, “Not tonight. We’ll call your parents first. You have time, we’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“How are they?”

Buffy answered, “They’ve been better. They have one daughter in a coma because their other, undead-daughter put her there, so yeah, they’ve been better,” Buffy watched her. To the best of her knowledge, this was the first time Ruby had asked about her parents at all since she had been with them. “We can even go see Sheena if you want.”

She nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

“Maybe tomorrow night then. I’ll see what I can do about clothes. You get settled in.”

“Ta,” she cleared her throat, “Ahh, thanks for everything. I think a shower sounds pretty amazing right now.”

“There should be blood in the fridge there,” Spike went over to double check, opening the little fridge door and glancing up at Ruby, “Looks like they got you a nice little variety and a little microwave. That’s right nice of them. Looks like you’ve got just about everything you need here.”

Buffy nodded in agreement, “Why don’t you do your thing, take a shower put on some comfy clothes, settle in with some reading material or watch some TV or something just try to wrap your head around stuff.”

Ruby nodded again, still looking a bit blank but maybe a little bit more hopeful then she had a few minutes ago, “No you’re right, moping isn’t really doing me much good now is it?”

“We’ll check in on you later.”

And with that the three of them went back upstairs into the kitchen. “I’m feeling oddly good about this,” Buffy smiled.

“She’s not out of the woods yet but it’s a start,” Spike said a little distractedly as he watched Willow. She was wandering around the kitchen checking the cabinets and the countertops. “Alright there, Red?”

“I was just thinking about how I want to refinish the kitchen. I have a decent amount saved up, I was thinking about getting a house eventually, but I think this would be even better.”

Buffy squealed and pulled Willow into a hug, “Do you really mean it? You said you’d think about it but—“

“Rome is nice but I really like the idea of living close to the action. I sort of already have a job here. I won’t have to do the long distance teaching thing anymore and I’ll also be closer to the Devon Coven which is definitely a plus.”

“Yay-ness!”

Willow grinned, “Xander needs a place too, I bet he’d take the second room.”

“We’ll ask him tonight,” Buffy smiled brightly. For over a year the Scoobies had been spread across multiple countries and now it seemed like things were finally starting to come together. A little hole in Buffy’s chest that she hadn’t really noticed before suddenly closed up a little.

Her smile lit up the room. Spike couldn’t help but smile back. He loved seeing her smile. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and fiddling with his overgrown hair, “Good to know your neighbors I guess. Anyway, I’d better be off, Pet.”

“Us too.”

They made their way out into the entryway, Spike gave Buffy a chased kiss, opened the door to the other side of the duplex and stopped. “Humm, Buffy? Sweetheart?”

She turned back to him, “Yeah?”

He pressed his hand against the invisible barrier now blocking him, “Looks like our little experiment finally paid off. Think I’m going to need an invite into our place, Pet.”

Buffy bound over to the door going inside, “Welcome home! Come on in!” She grinned.

Spike hesitated, “You know what this means right? You’re ready for this?”

“Get your ass in here, William!”

He crossed into the threshold and let Buffy pull him into a long kiss, “Hoped you’d say that,” he grinned.

#fanfic #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy fanfic #buffy x spike #spuffy #bound #spike x buffy

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imagineimpact · 3 years

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Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

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